


yu ste meizen (yu ste klir)

by alexandriadeservedbetter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Trans Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexandriadeservedbetter/pseuds/alexandriadeservedbetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa's never been so scared in her life, but Clarke assures her that she's got nothing to be afraid of.</p><p>or</p><p>Clarke finds out that Lexa is trans.</p><p>NOTE: chapter 7 includes triggers of self harm, blood, and suicide mention. Please read with caution!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Long story short, I orphaned this and I want to take it back. Enjoy!

“Jeez, Kane worked us hard today,” Octavia groans, pulling at her shirt. The gray v-neck clings to her damp skin in the worst of places, leaving unsightly dark patches all over the thin material. Her face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat that gleams under the florescent locker room lights.

“It’s strength training, O,” Raven deadpans, already pulling her tank over her head. She fumbles with her lock with one hand as she tries to strategically weasel her way out of her shirt. She’s a tangled mess, but somehow, she’s still managing. Clarke decides it best to simply let her go and reaches toward her own lock as people file through behind her.

“Lord give me the _strength_ not to punch your insensitive face,” Octavia mutters, pulling the sweaty articles of clothing off her body. Clarke wrinkles her nose in mock disgust, fanning at the air. Octavia rolls her eyes and threatens to toss her socks at the blonde, a threat which she does not take lightly.

“Her face is sensitive, actually. Do you know how easily she bruises?” Clarke says, deflecting the attention away from the menacing brunette next to her. Raven sighs and shrugs her shoulders, unable to deny the accusation. She reaches in for her perfume and promptly douses herself in it, leaving the scent of Victoria’s Secret on Clarke’s exposed skin.

“Ugh. I feel so nasty. I wish I had time to shower,” Octavia says, shuddering slightly as she pulls a dry shirt on over her still sticky skin. Clarke sympathizes with her for a moment before grinning.

“Sucks not to have study hall right after this, huh?”

The snarky blonde is rewarded with a swift, moderately strong blow to the shoulder, and she knows she’ll likely be left with a bruise or a welt by the end of the day. This is nothing abnormal, however. For Clarke and her friends, it’s just a Tuesday. She simply stretches her shoulder out for a moment, then grabs for the towel folded up at the bottom of her locker.

“You’re annoying. See you tonight,” Octavia says, gathering up all of her things. She sighs in discontent as her bookbag presses up against her back, but does not vocalize her concerns this time.

Raven is soon to follow, and she tosses her bag across her shoulder quickly. As she takes a step forward, she winces slightly. Though she’s capable of doing strength training, every day does a number on her leg and Clarke can only hope that its condition doesn’t worsen because of it.

“Adios, Clarkey,” Raven calls as she hobbles away, and Clarke calls something back in return.

Soon after, the rest of the students left in the locker room clear out, leaving the area silent save for the electric hum of the lights. Clarke sighs, grateful for the quiet. She reaches for her towel, then heads directly for the showers.

As warm, soon soapy water flows over the blonde’s shoulders and back, she begins to finally feel clean. The sweat and dirt from the hard training session just minutes before is all but gone, draining into the drain underneath her feet. Finally, her skin and hair feel much less oily and she’s satisfied with her cleanliness. Somewhat against her will, as the warm water is an enticing mistress that pleads for her to stay, Clarke turns off the water and reaches her hand out to grab her towel.

Once the shark printed cloth is wrapped tightly around her chest, covering her torso and the top of her thighs, she deems it safe to walk back to her locker. She prays silently that no one has decided now to be a good time to come into the room as she trudges back to where her clothes lie, her feet splashing with each dripping step.

Just as she’s about to reach the portion of the room where her locker resides, Clarke notes that she has roughly forty minutes before she has to go to her final class period of the day.

She continues splashing toward her locker, and when she rounds the bend, the sight before her is one she isn’t prepared to see for several reasons.

Reason number one. It’s Lexa Woods, the girl she’s been crushing on for years now, who, Clarke now realizes, has the finest and most toned ab muscles she’s ever seen.

Reason number two, Lexa is shirtless.

Reason number three, Lexa is pantsless.

Reason number four, Lexa is wearing only boxers and a bra.

Clarke gulps hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She swirls her tongue around searching desperately for something to take away the sudden dryness, but she is met with nothing. Her heart thuds in her chest as she backs away slowly, intending to sneak of unseen. She’d hide, wait until she hears Lexa leave, then she would go get dressed. Foolproof.

The blonde proves herself to be a fool, however, as she backs into a bench leaning against the far wall. It makes a loud thump and creaks slightly, immediately giving away her presence. She lets out a sigh and closes her eyes for a moment.

When she opens them, having closed them for hardly a second, Lexa whips around on her heels. Her emerald green eyes are as wide as saucers, and her mouth is slightly open. Clarke bites back the urge to sigh at how beautiful she looks in that moment. Instead, she lets her eyes cruise around the half-naked woman standing in front of her.

It takes but three seconds for Clarke to look down and notice the bulge pressing against the buttons of Lexa’s boxers. She isn't even given time to react before Lexa tears past her, knocking her backward into the bench. She lets out a gasp as she falls, landing on the hard wooden surface with a painful thud. She registers the sound of a stall door slamming shut and a lock clicking before the pain in her backside kicks in.

“Shit,” she whispers, realizing what just happened. She pushes herself up off of the bench slowly, trying not to make too much noise. She then rounds the corner, the chill of her shoulder brushing against the cold brick eliciting a shiver from her body.

Lexa has locked herself in the smallest stall in the farthest corner of the room. Carefully, Clarke falls to her hands and feet and peeks underneath the stalls. She sees the brunette leaned against the barrier between the two stalls facing the toilet, her knees pulled in close to her chest.

Clarke tightens the towel around her chest, knowing she likely should have grabbed her clothes before coming over here. Her thoughts were preoccupied by the brunette, however, and she isn't about to leave her there alone, even if for a few moments. She’ll make do.

She tiptoes toward the stall and gently lowers herself to the ground, leaning expertly against the stall barrier so as not to flash the mirror in front of her. She freezes, waiting for Lexa to scamper away hurriedly once her presence is noticed, but nothing happens. Her muscles relax and she lets out a silent sigh.

For a minute or two, neither one speaks. The only sounds are that of their simultaneous breathing and Lexa’s occasional sniffles. Clarke's heart clenches as she realizes that Lexa’s crying.

“I'm sorry,” the brunette whispers. Her voice, usually quiet but strong, now sounds cracked and quivering. Clarke sighs, wanting nothing more than to reach over and take the brunette’s hand.

“Lexa, you don't have to be sorry,” she says. Lexa shuffles.

“Yes, I do. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Who said I was?”

This quiets the brunette and Clarke alike. Lexa shuffles again, but this time, it sounds like she's relaxing a little instead of tensing. Clarke is grateful for the change, no matter how small.

“Can I ask questions?”

Lexa pauses, and Clarke immediately begins kicking herself for even thinking she could say that. She isn’t given long to beat herself up, however, because Lexa interrupts her.

“Yes.”

The blonde takes in a deep breath, steadying herself. Her eyes flit up to the clock on the wall, telling her she still has about half an hour before they have to leave. _Good._

“I know there’s a lot of different explanations,” Clarke says, stumbling over her words. She wants to ask questions without offending the brunette, and she’s afraid that there’s just not a good way to ask what she wants to know. “What is yours?”

“I was born Alex,” Lexa says simply. Clarke allows herself a small grin, her heart feeling less heavy at the way Lexa’s voice has softened.

“Did some rearranging?” the blonde jokes tentatively. Lexa hums in return, and the blonde almost wishes she could see the smile that she hopes is on Lexa’s face. All she wants is to find a way to calm the brunette, and she hopes this is working.

“More or less,” Lexa replies. She shifts once again, sitting up. Clarke turns her head and sees that the brunette has settled herself into a crosslegged position.

“When did you know?”

Lexa pauses again, likely thinking of her response. Clarke waits patiently, adjusting her own position to relieve the ache of her bones digging into the tile floor. Her hair drips every so often, leaving small puddles around her.

“I always did,” Lexa says. “Not in the sense that I always played with dolls instead of race cars. I loved race cars.”  
Clarke chuckles quietly, imagining a little Lexa running around the house with a race car in her hand.

“So how did you know, then?” she asks, and Lexa sighs.

“I just did. I didn’t like being called a boy, or he. For as long as I can remember, I’ve insisted that my name is Lexa,” she says. She chuckles to herself for a moment, then continues. “When I started writing Lexa instead of Alex, my parents were convinced I was dyslexic. Had me tested and everything.”

“Ha..dysLEXic,” Clarke attempts. She can practically hear the eye roll as Lexa mutters a ‘shut up’ and reaches her hand blindly around the stall door, trying to make contact in order to swat the blonde for her ridiculous pun. Clarke only giggles as Lexa barely brushes against the towel.

A comfortable silence settles over the two of them, now, but it reveals the way Lexa’s still sniffling. Clarke knows there’s really no way she can make it stop and simply waits for the next question to pop into her mind.

“When did you start transitioning?”

“A few years ago. I’ve been on hormones for going on two years now.”

“How long has it taken for you to notice the difference?”

“I noticed the difference in just a few months, but now? It’s incredible.”

Clarke nods, then realizes that Lexa can’t see her. She sighs, deciding the answer doesn’t exactly warrant a response.

“Are you going to get any surgery of any sort?”

She asks the question tentatively, hoping that the brunette on the other side of the barrier will understand the question behind her question.

“Would you judge me if I said no?”

Clarke bites her lip at the way Lexa’s voice quivers again. She knows the answer without having to talk about it.

“No, Lex. I wouldn’t.”

Clarke can hear Lexa’s breath shudder as she slowly lets it out in a long, drawn out exhale.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No one outside the family.”

“How have you managed to keep hidden all this time? I’m sure it can’t be easy.”

Lexa chuckles, louder this time. It makes Clarke’s heart flutter unexpectedly, and she brushes it off as the brunette responds.

“Very, very carefully.”

Clarke grins, again readjusting her position. She longs for the relief of standing to soothe the ache in her legs, but she knows she can handle sitting for a few minutes more. She wants to sit talking to Lexa for as long as the brunette needs it.

She’s drawn out of her miniature trance by the sound of a sniffle followed by a few rapid intakes of breath, then a long but shaky exhale. Clarke’s heart aches all over again, and she has to stop herself from crawling under the stall door right then.

When Lexa lets out what sounds like a stifled sob, she can’t take it anymore.

“Can I crawl under?”

Lexa flashes a thumbs up under the door, and Clarke’s eyes are immediately drawn to the droplets resting on her fingers. She has to stifle a pained whine as she crawls beneath the stall door, slowly and carefully, and rests next to Lexa.

Her head is resting in the space created by her arms wrapping around her knees. She’s curled herself into what is essentially an upright fetal position, and her body shakes with suppressed cries. The tips of her ears have turned a bright red.

For a moment, Clarke only sits there. Her eyes scan over the brunette, and she begins to notice the little things. The very edges of scars peek out from beneath her sports bra and from the edge of her throat. Small details of her build, such as the broadness of her shoulders and the size of her muscles, become more apparent. Still, Clarke thinks, she’s the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

Her eyes are tracing the edge of Lexa’s Calvin Klein’s when the brunette finally speaks.

“Do I disgust you?”

Clarke barely has time to think before she’s throwing an arm around Lexa’s shoulders, tensing only when she realizes what she’s done. Lexa freezes for a moment, then relaxes into the blonde’s touch. She leans sideways and rests her head in the crook of Clarke’s neck. Clarke can see the tears dripping off her chin still, and she tightens her grip on the girl ever so slightly.

“You amaze me,” Clarke says, her voice low and comforting. “Do you realize how brave you are? How strong?”

The brunette’s body stills and begins to shake, and Clarke can just barely make out the way her brows furrow. She knows that Lexa’s tears are back again, but this time, she hopes that they’re happy tears. Her thumb rubs absently across Lexa’s bare upper arm, and she leans her head into Lexa’s.

“I always thought something like this would go badly,” the girl whispers. “I didn’t expect this.”

“Surprise,” Clarke replies, feebly attempting to bring some humor to the situation. It must work even if only a bit, because the blonde can feel Lexa smiling. Her cheek pushes into Clarke’s shoulder.

“I think you’re amazing, Lexa,” Clarke whispers. “Getting up every day, facing what it’s like to have been born into a body that isn’t yours. And still, yet, you get through, keeping that smile on your face.”

“Don’t give me so much credit, Clarke,” Lexa says, and Clarke thinks she’s going to melt at the way Lexa’s tongue clicks on the ‘k’ of her name.

_Get it together, Griffin. This is about Lexa, not you._

“You deserve it, Lex.”

“Since when did you call me Lex?”

Clarke’s face goes red, and as Lexa looks up, tearful eyes, snotty nose and all, she grins. Clarke feels her blush spread, leaving her chest and above in a likely unflattering shade of pink.

“Relax. It’s sweet,” Lexa says, her voice coming out steadier than before. Clarke breathes a sigh of relief, and whether it’s for herself or Lexa, she doesn’t know.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them now, and for a moment, they simply sit there enjoying each other’s company. Suddenly, as Clarke glances down at the towel wrapped around her, a realization dawns on her.

“Hey, Lex?”

“Hmm?”

“We should probably put on some clothes.”

Lexa looks down, then over to Clarke, and she allows herself a true laugh. It is music to Clarke’s ears, and she is reluctant to pull her arm away. However, time beckons for them to get around, so she slowly snakes her arm back toward her. She pulls herself up to a standing position slowly, willing the towel around her chest to stay in place. She holds on hand out and pulls Lexa up, too, leaving them both standing and stretching their aching limbs.

Before she can stop herself, Clarke’s eyes drift downward, again tracing the hem of Lexa’s boxers. The second her eyes dip downward still, she darts them up, meeting Lexa’s. The brunette’s cheeks have turned a dark shade of red, and she starts to turn in embarrassment.

Clarke instinctively reaches out her hand and grabs Lexa’s shoulder, flipping her back around.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, both her hands finding their way to Lexa’s upper arms. The brunette’s eyes glimmer again in the florescent lights above them, and she slowly begins to relax. She leans forward, and Clarke wraps her arm around the girl’s frame. Lexa’s arms hesitantly snake around Clarke’s middle, and when the blonde doesn’t react, she tightens her hold.

“You’re beautiful,” Clarke repeats. Lexa sighs and lets her head fall forward onto the blonde’s shoulder.

They stay that way for a few moments, neither one speaking or moving. The only sensations are the sound of their synchronized breaths and the sensation of warm skin pressed against each other.

It is Lexa who breaks the silence this time.

“Have you ever seen…?”

Her voice trails off, and Clarke has to bite back a grin at the way she can actually feel Lexa’s face heat up. She knows where the question is going, however, and decides to spare her crush the embarrassment. When the realization of the reality of Lexa’s words hit her, her own face begins to heat up again, too.

“No. Have you?”

Lexa shakes her head against Clarke’s shoulder, and Clarke lets out a heavy sigh. Her heart is suddenly racing, and her knees feel like they could give out beneath her without warning. Judging by the tremors coursing through the girl embracing her, she is not alone.

“Don’t be afraid,” Lexa whispers, despite her own fear. Clarke grins at the girl’s fearless nature and gently pulls back. Lexa follows suit, and soon, the two are facing each other once again, only a few feet apart this time.

“Do you want-”

“Yeah, I think it’d-”  
“That’s good, ‘cause I-”

Both girls pause, realizing they’re stumbling over their words. Grins spread across their cheeks, and they let out nervous chuckles.

“On three?”

Lexa snorts, and Clarke juts her lip out in a pout. This wipes the grin off the brunette’s face, and she replaces it with a serious expression as best she can. She nods.

“One.”

“Two.”

Clarke gulps, and her eyes never leave Lexa’s.

“Three.”

Lexa hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her boxers and begins to slowly pull on them as Clarke begins to hike up her towel. Neither one dares to look down, their eyes locked and widened. Clarke can see Lexa swallow hard, and her mouth goes dry.

“Together?”

“Together.”

Clarke drops her eyes, and she can’t help the gasp that escapes her lips. Lexa has a similar reaction, and they stay that way for a while, lips parted and eyes unmoving.

Clarke is the first to speak.

“Like I said, Lexa,” she whispers, barely trusting her voice. “Beautiful.”

“As are you, Clarke.”

The sudden realization of the passing time snaps Clarke out of her daze, and she hurriedly opens the stall door to look at the time. She lets out a sigh of relief when she sees ten minutes still left before they had to go to their next period.

When she turns back around, Lexa has pulled her boxers back up, and she’s adjusting the waistline to her content.

“You ready to get around?” Clarke asks, willing herself to be steady. Her body fails her, however, as her hands still shake.

“I am,” Lexa says. The brunette approaches her slowly, legs visibly trembling. As they walk the short distance back to the area where their lockers reside, Clarke doesn’t question why Lexa slips her fingers into the blonde’s own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this version is much better and more accurate than the original. Further chapters will dive into struggles that Lexa faces. I hope you enjoy the rest of this story as much as I will enjoy writing it!


	2. Chapter 2

“Clarke? Earth to Clarke. Come in.”

The blonde jumps, startled by the sudden voice. The action causes her wind-blown locks to tangle in the twigs of the bushes behind her, and she lets out a groan of discontent. The brunette approaching lets out a chuckle before taking a seat in the grass next to her.

“Where were you just now?” Lexa asks, pulling her knees up to her chest as she leans back against the tree. The school courtyard was a popular place to eat lunch, and Clarke had asked her to join her there. 

“I was thinking about the past couple of weeks,” Clarke replies, managing to free her hair from the bush next to her. The tree sits in the corner of the courtyard, where the border of bushes comes to a point around it. As Clarke searches for words, her eyes scan the clearing, and she grins as she sees the rest of her friends coming toward them from the opposite corner. 

“What about them?” Lexa inquires, handing Clarke a sandwich. For the past couple of days, the two of them have been alternating on who packs lunch for the both of them. Clarke takes the sandwich and unwraps it, then takes a rather large bite from the corner of it. From the corner of her eye, she sees Lexa grinning.

“Shut up,” Clarke mutters through her mouthful of food. She chews quickly and swallows, then continues her thoughts. “Just...everything. You, them, us. Everything. It’s been amazing.”

It truly had been. It was only three days after their first encounter in the locker room that Lexa was introduced to Clarke’s group of friends. They took her in without a second thought, and wasted no time with niceties. Not ten minutes after they met, Lexa was already being treated with the same sarcasm and heartfelt insults as the rest of them. Clarke was secretly grateful for this fact; it made it so much easier on the brunette to not have to go through the awkward “getting comfortable with each other” phase. 

Not only had Lexa and the rest of their friends hit it off, but so had Clarke and Lexa, too. Since that day in the locker room, the two of them had started talking and spending time together as if by some unspoken agreement. They texted each other first thing in the morning, and last thing at night. After school meant an hour or two walking around town or down to the beach to enjoy the warm spring air. Their connection had been instant, and it had not faltered one bit.

“You’re gone again, Clarke. Stay with me here.”

This time, the blonde doesn’t jump. Instead, she grins and turns toward Lexa, who’s already halfway finished with her sandwich while Clarke has only eaten one bite. Lexa gently reaches over and pushes the hand holding her sandwich toward the blonde’s mouth, and Clarke rolls her eyes in return as she takes another bite.

Their friends approach them now, each holding styrofoam trays to carry their lunches. 

“Thing One, Thing Two,” Bellamy teases, taking his usual spot between Clarke and Octavia. Raven settles on the other side of Octavia, and Jasper and Monty finish the circle. 

“Where’s Finn?” Clarke asks almost reluctantly. She loves Raven, she really does, but she hates the fact that she’s never been able to see what an ass Finn is. However, she keeps her mouth shut, like the rest of her friends have.

Raven scoffs and opens her milk carton just a little too forcefully. “He’s with some other girl, last I knew. Dumped his ass last night.”

It takes everything in Clarke not to cheer.

“I’m proud of you, Rae. He wasn’t good for you,” Bellamy says, his usual gruff tone turning quiet and sympathetic. Raven looks up to meet his eyes, and despite the sadness in her own, she smiles as best she can. Octavia places a hand on her knee and gives it a gentle squeeze, then takes a breath.

“We’re gonna get your mind off of him,” Octavia promises. A wicked grin crosses her face, and Clarke sighs.

“Oh no,” she mutters, knowing full well what’s about to happen.

“It’s party time at the Blake house tomorrow night,” the brunette says, her eyes alight with excitement. Bellamy grins through his mouthful of spaghetti, seemingly approving the idea.

“Can I trust you to bring the goods?” he asks, looking to Jasper and Monty. They scoff, feigning being offended at the question.

“Have we ever disappointed?” Jasper asks, grinning. Bellamy smiles back and shakes his head.

Clarke feels a gentle nudge to her shoulder, and she turns to see Lexa raising an eyebrow in inquiry. 

“The goods?” she mouths, barely perceptibly to the rest of the group. Clarke makes a subtle motion of tipping a bottle backward, and Lexa’s eyes wash over with understanding.

“Is that okay?” Clarke mouths back, and Lexa grins. Clarke takes that as a yes, then makes a note to ask later why Lexa seemed so concerned at first.

“What about you, Lexa T-Rexa?” Raven says, snapping the two of them out of their trance. Their heads turn to the tiny brunette at the same time, leaving a cheeky grin on Raven’s face. “You gonna be there?”

Lexa hesitates for a second. She turns to Clarke, her eyes conveying something that she can’t quite read. As soon as blue eyes meet green, however, the brunette’s a goner. She nods, and Raven’s smile grows exponentially.

“Good! Bring your bathing suits, fam. It’s pool party time,” Octavia says.

Before anyone can respond, the sound of the bell ringing out fills the courtyard. Clarke raises her eyebrow, confused. They’d only been outside for fifteen minutes out of the twenty five they usually had, but realization dawned on her.

“There’s an assembly today, so they shortened lunch. God dammit,” Clarke mutters. 

All except Lexa and Clarke give hurried goodbyes as they head back into the building, leaving the two girls nearly alone in the open courtyard.

“We’ll be late, Clarke,” Lexa says, beginning to gather her stuff. Her tone is hushed and pointed, and her features have hardened. Clarke sighs, knowing immediately what’s wrong. She places a gentle hand on the brunette’s arm, causing her to freeze in her tracks.

“You don’t have to swim if you don’t want to,” Clarke says, softening her voice. Lexa lets out a long breath of air and settles down onto her heels. Her head hangs slightly, and her free hand reaches up to rub at her tired eyes.

“I do, it’s just...what if they find out? What if they freak?” she says, rushing through her words. Clarke runs a thumb across Lexa’s arm and quiets her immediately.

“I know my friends. It won’t phase them one bit,” she promises, and she knows she isn’t wrong. The brunette sighs and leans ever so imperceptibly closer to Clarke. 

“How do you know?” 

Clarke suppresses a grin, not wanting to seem insensitive to Lexa’s worries, and takes a breath. “I came out as bisexual last year, and the only thing that happened was Raven telling me that if I ever wanted to, she would suddenly have a thing for blue eyed blondes.”

Lexa giggles, the tension visibly leaving her body. She seems unfazed by Clarke’s confession, and Clarke is grateful for that.

“Blue eyed blondes, huh? Why does that suddenly seem so enticing?”

Clarke rolls her eyes and swats at Lexa’s shoulder, and the brunette chuckles once again as she falls backward into the grass. As they two of them sit there laughing, knowing that they’ll be late to their next class, Clarke tries her hardest to ignore the flutter she feels in her chest at the idea of Lexa having a thing for her.

\--

Friday night rolls around much more quickly than anticipated, and before Clarke can blink, she’s sitting on the back of Octavia’s motorcycle as they speed off to the Blake house. With every twist and turn, her arms tighten around the brunette’s middle instinctively, eliciting an amused chuckle from the driving girl.

“You’re gonna kill us both if you keep doing that,” she says, her voice raised over the roar of the tires on the road. Clarke grins, burying her helmeted face in the brunette’s back as she slows to a stop at an intersection.

“I should’ve let Lexa drive me,” Clarke mumbles, just barely audible. Octavia snorts in response.

“Your precious Lexa is in the car right behind us, relax.”

And she is, indeed. Octavia had insisted on driving Clarke to the house, but Bellamy made sure to give everyone else a ride. From Octavia’s rearview, Clarke spots Lexa sitting in the front seat of the truck next to Raven, who’s smashed in between her and Bellamy. Lexa looks out the window, her hair still flowing in the slight breeze, and she’s got a carefree smile on her face that makes Clarke’s heart feel light.

They arrive at the Blake house a few short minutes later, and 6:30 is already rolling around. Bellamy’s practice hadn’t let out until 6, leaving the rest of the group practically stranded at the school until he was done. It worked out fairly nicely, however, as none of them were left with any homework for the weekend. It was another stress lifted off their shoulders so that they could enjoy the night more fully.

As soon as they all arrive, they head out back to the patio and pool. Bellamy lets out a belly laugh, and Clarke raises an eyebrow, confused. She follows him in, and she too breaks out into a grin at the sight before her.

Jasper and Monty must have arrived a few minutes earlier, because the two of them sit in poolside lounge chairs already in their suits, each chair surrounded by seemingly unquantifiable cases of drinks. Clarke’s eyes land on the Watermelon Smirnoff Ice sitting by Jasper’s feet, and she wills herself not to break into the drinks just yet. As the rest of the group files in through the gate, she can hear the amused chuckles of each of them behind her. One particular giggle makes the blonde’s heart flutter in the best of ways, and she bites her lip to keep herself from smiling too hard.

“Food tonight is snack food all throughout the night. Supposed to help with hangovers, right?” Octavia says, pulling off her gloves. She tosses them inside her helmet and sets it down next to the gate. 

“Something like that,” Monty says, and Clarke grins. Her smile only widens as he and Jasper both begin to tear open the cardboard boxes encasing the goods for the evening.

Clarke whips around, searching for a certain pair of emerald green eyes in the small crowd of people behind her. As Raven, Octavia, and Bellamy head inside to start getting out the snack food, it doesn’t take long to find who she’s looking for.

Lexa squints against the still bright sun, her face contorted in a way that Clarke finds rather amusing. It’s one of the hotter days, which works out nicely for a pool party, and the brunette is dressed to accommodate. She’s already changed into simple black swim trunks with white seams and a black bikini top to match. Over the bikini top, she wears a tie-dyed blue and white muscle tank with the sides cut down to her ribcage. Clarke would be a liar if she said that the toned brunette didn’t look incredible.

“I’m going to go change into my suit,” the blonde says, her heart doing that silly flutter once again. She swallows hard, trying to steady her nerves. The corner of Lexa’s lips pull up into a half-smile as she nods.

“Want me to get you anything?” she asks, and Clarke grins as she throws the strap on her bag of clothes over her other shoulder to even out the weight.

“Surprise me.”

\--

When the blonde returns from the bathroom soon later, clad only in a rainbow bikini and jean shorts to cover the bottoms for the time being, Lexa does not disappoint. She immediately hands off the exact drink Clarke had been ogling a few minutes ago, a Green Apple Smirnoff already open in her hand. 

“How can you drink that stuff?” Clarke asks, grateful for the fact that Lexa had already opened her drink. She’d never been good with the tops, and she’s grateful for the chance to save herself some embarrassment. 

Lexa takes a healthy sip of the drink in her hand as if to prove a point, and she grins as she swallows it down. “How can you drink that stuff?”

“Fair enough,” Clarke agrees, taking the first sip of her own drink. The delicious watermelon flavor hits her tongue like a tidal wave of refreshingness, and she knows she’s screwed if she isn’t careful with these. Judging by the way Lexa takes another rather large swig of her own drink, she decides that the brunette is in quite the same boat.

“Jesus, Griff, we just got here,” Raven teases, poking her head out the patio door. She too is wearing her bikini, an all red one with black booty shorts to cover the bottoms. A quick glance inside reveals Octavia and Bellamy walking out of the hallway, each wearing their own bathing suits. Clarke grins as she sees the Batman trunks Bellamy wears, then the Superman bikini Octavia has chosen. 

Clarke turns her attention back to Raven, who’s still staring at her with feigned unamusement.

“Like you weren’t coming out to break into the Bud Light,” the blonde accuses, and Raven shrugs.

“Got me,” she admits, gently sliding past. She heads straight for the beer, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

When she turns back to Lexa, the brunette is already halfway finisihed with her drink. Clarke raises an eyebrow in inquiry, and Lexa pauses mid-sip.

“Thirsty?”

“Liquid courage, my friend,” the brunette says, chuckling as a few drops of Smirnoff slip out of the corners of her mouth. She doesn’t even bother to reach up and wipe them away as she finishes her sip.

Clarke rolls her eyes and mutters something about her new best friend being pathetic, eliciting a chuckle from the brunette as she finally does wipe away the spilled drink. When she’s done, a silence falls over the two of them. Clarke’s demeanor softens as she steps toward Lexa, making the space between the two of them seem less distant.

“Still nervous?” she whispers, and Lexa gives a halfhearted smile in return. Clarke sighs and instinctively reaches out to run her fingers down Lexa’s forearm, a gesture that has become quite common in the past couple of weeks. As expected, the tension leaves the brunette’s body ever so slightly, and she lets out a small breath of air.

“Don’t be afraid,” Clarke says, meeting emerald orbs. Lexa nods wordlessly. She clenches her jaw as she takes in a deep, cleansing breath, and when she lets it out again, she nods once more. Clarke gives the brunette’s arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting go.

The first half of the evening goes quickly, and it is spent laughing, eating, and drinking poolside. No one actually gets in the water until the sun begins to set around nine.

“What kind of pool party is it if we don’t get in the pool?” Raven says. Her words are slightly slurred, and Clarke doesn’t miss the way Lexa bites her cheeks to keep from laughing too much. She reaches out and takes the nearly empty bottle out of Raven’s hand, then sets it down on the plastic table between the chairs where she and Clarke are relaxing. The bottle rest between their own nearly empty drinks, and Clarke can feel the buzz setting in.

She turns to look at Lexa, who’s pulling herself up into a sitting position.

“You good?” the blonde asks, and Lexa grins lazily. Clarke can see the way the alcohol is taking its affect on her, and she decides that she likes this Lexa quite a bit. She holds her hand out toward the aforementioned brunette and is greeted with a surprisingly steady grip that pulls her upward in return.

Covering garments are discarded next to the chairs, and just in time, too. There’s a huge splash next to them, showering them in droplets of mildly cold water. Raven comes up to the surface giggling tipsily, still plenty sober enough to safely swim.

“Coming, Princess and the Knight?” she asks, and Clarke rolls her eyes as she feels a blush coming onto her cheeks. 

“She thinks I’m the knight, Clarke,” Lexa says, poking the blonde’s soft side in amusement. Clarke lets out a snort at the brunette’s tipsy antics, then motions for Raven to scoot back. She complies, and the blonde wastes no time in cannonballing into the pool. Quickly after she breaks the surface, she sees another body plummet into the water beneath her.

When they both come up, Clarke’s eyes sting with the sudden introduction of chlorine to her naked eyes. This is a sting she knows all too well, however, and it hardly phases her as she simply rubs it away. When she regains her vision, Lexa is pushing her soaking wet hair out of her face. It flows gracefully down her back and shoulders, and in the setting sun, she looks rather angelic.

Soon after, the rest of the group jumps in, each at varying levels of drunkenness. Jasper is completely wasted, and luckily, he stays in the shallow end rather than the deep end. He and Monty sit there watching on as a game of Chicken quickly ensues. Without a second thought, Clarke climbs onto Raven’s shoulders per the usual and awaits her opponent.

“Lexa T-Rexa! Get on my shoulders!” Octavia says, patting her shoulders. 

Even with her slightly clouded mind, Clarke still has enough sense to realize that Lexa might not react to that well. Her eyes whip toward the brunette, who treads water next to Octavia.

Lexa’s expression has hardened, and her eyes are wide with worry. Not even her slightly inebriated state can take away her nervousness that she’s been avoiding all night, and Clarke searches desperately for a way to fix it.

Before she has a chance, however, Lexa steels herself over and climbs onto Octavia’s back. Clarke doesn’t miss the way Octavia’s eyebrow raises as Lexa settles onto her shoulders, and she prays for Lexa’s sake that she was right about her friends. Her prayers seem to be answered, for Octavia doesn’t react any more than that as she turns her attention toward Raven.

“You’re going down, Princess,” Lexa says, drawing Clarke out of her worried trance. When her eyes dart upward to meet Lexa’s own, there’s a flash of reassurance in the brunette’s eyes. It’s only there for a second, but it’s there. That’s all Clarke needs to replace her worry with her natural competitive spirit.

“Dream on, Commander,” she quips back, remembering a nickname that the brunette had told her about before. A blush creeps into Lexa’s cheeks, but she wastes no time in trying to lunge forward to knock Clarke over.

The game lasts for several rounds, each one getting progressively more interesting. Miraculously, one round consists of Clarke holding up Bellamy on her shoulders without much difficulty as he battles Octavia. Finally, somewhere around 11, the alcohol settles in just a bit too much to be in the pool. The cooling air leaves goosebumps on Clarke’s water covered skin, and she shivers as she pulls herself onto the deck. She immediately stumbles for the towel sitting folded on the lounge chair where she’d been relaxing a few hours before. Lexa is not far behind her, stumbling and tripping toward the chair. 

Somewhere behind them, Clarke hears a snort. She turns as she wraps her shark towel around her shoulders, and Octavia is standing there wrapped in her own towel.

“Something funny?” Clarke asks, and Octavia grins.

“T-Rexa? Buddy? Pal?” she says, and Lexa snaps up, eyes wide as she tries to focus. Clarke grins, then looks down and sees what Octavia noticed. Lexa’s trunks, soaking wet, cling to her body. They reveal the v-line that Clarke admires, but they also reveal the very thing Lexa was afraid of. Clarke freezes, her grin immediately fading. Lexa hasn’t noticed yet.

“Yeah?” the brunette asks.

“Might want to let her breathe. She looks like she’s suffocating,” Octavia slurs. Despite her worry, Clarke can’t help but burst into laughter. She’s extremely grateful for when Lexa looks down, goes red, and starts giggling as well. She pulls at the waistband of her trunks to try to stop them from sticking to her body so much.

“Much better,” Octavia says. She winks, and Clarke pushes back the little flash of - jealousy?

_ No,  _ she thinks.  _ It’s the alcohol. _

“Don’t worry, Lexa,” Octavia begins, her voice slightly more steady than before. Her lazy grin is gone, and it is instead replaced with an expression of true sincerity. “Your secret is safe if you’d like it to be.”

Lexa smiles too, now, looking around at the other people getting out of the pool. Their attention is not on the three girls, and Clarke is grateful for that.

“Thank you, O.”

With that, Octavia heads off to find her brother, mumbling something about water for the hangover.

The night ends fairly quickly. Once everyone is inside and changed, exhaustion from the day and the long evening kicks in almost instantly. There’s barely enough time for everyone to get down a glass or two of water before sleep takes them over. The last thing Clarke remembers before passing out in the living room is Lexa settling in by her side.

\--

Clarke wakes the next morning with a start. The steady warmth that had been there all night rushes off and tears down the hallway. Clarke groans to herself, thinking that the poor girl was sick. She didn’t want Lexa’s first memory of a night with her friend group to be waking up puking the next morning. It would be a little bit more difficult to get her to come back if that were the case.

Clarke stands slowly, moving cautiously to see if the alcohol from the night before had any effect on her still. To her delight and relief, the only thing she felt was grogginess. She had managed to avoid the stomachache and headache that many hangovers were usually accompanied by.

Deciding that she’s capable enough to walk without falling or passing out, she starts off down the hallway, searching for the brunette who’d left her moments ago. At the end of the hall, the bathroom door is closed. There’s a bar of yellow light at the bottom of the door, signifying that Lexa is certainly in there. Clarke swallows hard and approaches the door.

“Lex? Are you sick?”

“No, Clarke. I’m not sick.”

Clarke lets out a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t that.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s fine.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. In the two weeks that she’s begun to really know Lexa, she’s gathered one thing for certain: Lexa can’t lie for shit.

Still, she tries to be patient with her and works to keep her tone calm rather than annoyed.

“I know that’s not true,” she says softly, trying to keep her voice as sympathetic as possible. She hears Lexa scoff from the other side of the door.

“Caught me,” she mutters. Her voice is muffled, like she’s covering her face with her hands.

“Can I come in?”

Silence.

“Please?”

“Clarke, I don’t want you to see this.”

Clarke pauses. She can’t imagine what Lexa’s afraid of her seeing, but she knows for sure there’s nothing that could phase her. Lexa, of course, doesn’t know that, so Clarke decides to try to show her.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispers. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Lexa doesn’t respond for a moment. Then, there’s a small clicking sound, and the doorknob turns. The door cracks open slightly, and Clarke steps inside the bathroom before Lexa can change her mind.

The brunette is facing the wall, away from the mirror. Clarke looks her up and down, trying to figure out what the problem might be, but she sees nothing.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispers. The brunette’s shoulders drop, then rise again as she takes a deep breath. Still, she does not move.

“You’re safe.”

Lexa tenses completely, holds it, then releases the tension a moment later. Her head droops forward slightly, but she finally turns around. Clarke then realizes what Lexa’s panicking about, and her heart aches for the girl.

Tiny, coarse bits of stubble line the bottom of her face. It creates a dark shadow that covers from her ears down to her chin, then around her lips. Lexa doesn’t dare look up at Clarke, yet, and her eyes stay trained on the floor.

Tentatively, Clarke steps forward, closing much of the space between the two of them. Lexa stutters backward, almost as if she’s afraid of Clarke. It makes the blonde’s heart ache painfully in her chest.

“You’re beautiful, Lexa,” she whispers. Her voice is still hoarse and scratchy from the night before, but still, she tries to speak just a bit louder. “I mean it.”

“Girls with beards aren’t beautiful,” Lexa spits, her own voice gravelly and raspy. It’s deeper than usual, Clarke notices now, but it hardly registers. She isn’t seeing some different version of Lexa, or seeing her as any less of the person she was the night before. It’s just Lexa.

“Yes, they are. I promise,” Clarke replies. Lexa doesn’t respond. Instead, she just continues to stare at the ground.

Knowing that Lexa won’t hear anything Clarke’s saying while she’s still this angry, Clarke decides to do something productive to help. She gently squeezes past Lexa, careful not to touch her, and opens the cabinet behind her. Clarke has practically lived in this house with the Blakes ever since they were kids, and she knows it like the back of her hand. She knows where everything is, too, something that often comes in handy.

Bellamy’s razors and shaving cream are on the second shelf, all the way to the left. Clarke grabs for both of them, then heads over to the sink. She cleans the razor carefully with soap and water, ridding it of anything that could possibly be left over by the curly haired boy. Once it’s clean, she heads back to the cabinet and grabs a washcloth to wet with steaming hot water. All the while, Lexa remains motionless and silent in the same place she was standing.

When the sink is full of steaming water and the washcloth is soaking in it, Clarke finally turns her attention back to the brunette standing in the corner.

“If you’d like, I can lea-”

Clarke isn’t given time to finish her sentence. Lexa lunges forward and wraps her arms around the blonde’s middle, immediately burying her face in her neck. Clarke freezes for a moment, but once everything registers, she pulls Lexa closer and wraps her arms around the brunette’s shoulders. One hand instinctively reaches up to run through her long wavy locks.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa whispers, and Clarke shakes her head.

“I understand. It’s okay,” she replies quietly, efficiently hushing the brunette in her arms. Lexa sighs, then slowly unravels herself from Clarke’s grip.

“Do you want me to leave?” Clarke asks, but Lexa immediately presses a finger to her lips. Clarke can’t help but grin, and she nods in response. 

She sits on the toilet seat, arms folded across her chest as she leans back into the tank. Her eyes feel heavy, but she knows Lexa won’t likely want to go back to sleep. She promises herself a cup or two of coffee as soon as they’re ready to go back to the living room and knows that sleep will come easily tonight.

As Lexa works, Clarke watches on intently, wanting to know what it’s truly like for the brunette and how she manages. Though it’s nothing special, necessarily, Clarke still watches with fascination as Lexa holds the warm cloth over her face for a few silent minutes, then applies a lather of shaving cream. She shaves in the direction that the hair goes, moving slowly and carefully as she does so. Clarke bites back a grin at the faces the brunette is making in the mirror, and she’s fairly certain she sees Lexa roll her eyes when their gazes meet. 

Once the shaving cream is almost completely gone, save for a few trails caused by the shaving itself, Lexa leans down and rinses her face of the lather. Then, she lathers up for a second time. Clarke raises an eyebrow, confused, but suddenly understands as Lexa begins shaving in the opposite direction of the hair’s growth. Clarke’s heard of the technique before, but never seen anyone do it. 

It proves to be worth the extra time, for as soon as Lexa rinses her face for a second time, she looks smooth and soft as can be. The way the brunette seems visibly more relaxed as she looks in the mirror makes Clarke’s heart feel a little less heavy. Lexa drains the water in the sink, cleans the razor, and puts everything away silently.

“I usually put on makeup over this afterward, just to hide it all that much more. On days where I don’t wear makeup, I at least put lotion on it to keep my skin softer,” she explains as she’s wringing out the washcloth.

Wordlessly, Clarke stands and heads back over to the cabinet. She hardly has to search at all before she finds Octavia’s favorite moisturizing lotion.

“Would this help?” she asks, holding it out to Lexa. The brunette sets the washcloth over the edge of the sink to dry, then turns to look. Her eyes soften and a tiny smile plays at her lips as she nods gratefully, then takes it.

Once Lexa has put lotion on her face, Clarke puts it back where she found it. When she turns back around, Lexa is staring in the mirror, her eyes moving slowly as they trace every inch of her face.

Clarke walks slowly over behind her, tentatively standing close so that both their faces can be seen in the mirror. They make eye contact in the glass pane, and Lexa gives a soft smile that does not quite reach her emerald orbs.

“Beautiful,” Clarke whispers. She’s not certain, but she thinks she sees the corner of Lexa’s mouth twitch upward just slightly. She shudders against the cool morning air, goosebumps lining her arms and shoulders, barren from the muscle tank she wears. Without thinking, Clarke steps forward and wraps her arms around Lexa’s middle from behind. She relishes in the firm muscles of the brunette’s abdomen, and even more in the softness of her shoulder as her head rests on it. Lexa’s grin grows visibly, now, and she leans backward into Clarke’s embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes falling shut. Clarke nods gently, not wanting to dig her chin into the brunette’s shoulder, and lets out a sigh. She allows her eyes to close for just a moment as a sense of calm washes over her.

“Will you two hurry up your heart to heart? I gotta pee.”

The sound of Octavia’s voice through the bathroom door shakes them both from their trance, but neither one of them seem to mind. Clarke chuckles against Lexa’s shoulder, and her heart flutters in her chest as she hears Lexa chuckle sleepily in response. They part reluctantly and head toward the door, lightness creeping into their chests that neither one had ever known.


	3. Chapter 3

Another week passes, this one as eventful as the two before it. Octavia holds true to her word and doesn’t tell anybody about Lexa’s secret, and Clarke couldn’t be more grateful. She knows what that means to Lexa in the way that the brunette acts. Since the morning after the party, Clarke’s been hyper-aware of all of the little things. She notices the way Lexa sneaks looks in the reflective screen of her phone, her eyes searching for any giveaways on her face. She notices the way Lexa runs her hands up and down her muscular but feminine arms, checking that the hair there is still soft and fine as it should be. She notices the way Lexa trails her fingers to the very tip of her hair, making sure that it is still long and luscious. She notices everything.

Though Octavia does not reveal Lexa’s secret, someone else does find out. That someone has the worst timing that Clarke has ever seen, though the event is amusing enough that she’s almost willing to forgive them.

\--

_ The only sound in the locker room is of a running shower around the corner as Clarke stands by her locker, turning the padlock to its combination. Her wet hair drips onto the marbled tile beneath her, forming a puddle at the connection between the wall and the floor. She makes a mental note to clean it up once she’s dressed, then pulls open her locker door. _

_ The shower turns off, giving Clarke approximately thirty seconds to pull on underwear. She hurriedly dries her shoulders and chest, then pulls on her black and white sports bra. It clings to her damp skin uncomfortably, but she’s grown used to the sensation after two years of strength training and hurried dressing. She’s just about to pull on her favorite Captain America panties when bare feet pad into the area, splashing with each step.  _

_ “Could you have perhaps not used all of the hot wa-OH!” _

_ Lexa’s snarky comment is cut off as she looks up and realizes that Clarke is bare from the stomach down. She whips around quickly, almost slipping on the tile as she does so. She doesn’t move, but her ears turn a deep red. Clarke feels a grin creeping onto her lips, and she lets it. _

_ “Lexa. Turn around,” she says, trying to keep the smile out of her voice. She knows it still seeps through, just a little bit, and hopes the brunette doesn’t notice.  _

_ Of course, that fails. _

_ “Wipe that smile off your face, Griffin,” Lexa quips, but she too is grinning as she turns around. She locks her eyes with Clarke’s, cheeks and ears still dark red in embarrassment. _

_ “Need I remind you that this is nothing new?” Clarke asks, reaching for her underwear. As she slips it over her thighs and pulls it onto her hips, Lexa snorts. _

_ “Yes, because that clearly made it immediately normal,” she teases, now getting into her own locker. Clarke straightens out, and she winces slightly as she feels the extra padding on her stomach un-squishing itself. She reaches up and wraps her arm around her stomach, suddenly slightly uncomfortable. _

_ When Lexa turns back around, Clarke has not moved her arm yet. The brunette sighs. She turns just enough to hide her front and drops her towel, then pulls her undergarments on, slightly struggling against her water-covered skin. She then turns her attention back to Clarke, and the blonde smiles halfheartedly. _

_ Lexa approaches slowly, her hand stretching out to rest on Clarke’s arm. The blonde fights the instinct to step backward, and doesn’t flinch when Lexa wraps her hand around her forearm. When gentle fingers tug on her arm, pleading for her to remove it, Clarke sighs and musters all the courage she can find to pull it back. She isn’t sure why this is happening now, after being fine at the party a week ago, but Lexa doesn’t seem to care about the why.  _

_ “Remember what you always tell me,” the brunette says under her breath, as though someone else in the empty locker room might hear her. Clarke looks up to meet her sincere gaze, and for once, she doesn’t try to ignore the flutter in her chest. _

_ “What’s that?” she asks, her voice shakier than she’d hoped. She’s painfully aware of her stomach and the way it hangs over the waistband of her underwear, and it’s a struggle not to rush to cover it again.  _

_ “You’re beautiful,” Lexa whispers.  _

_ Clarke’s too caught up in the way those words  make her both cringe with self doubt and soar with gratitude to notice the footsteps heading toward them. _

_ “Dude, you HAVE to tell me where you got those boxers.” _

_ Both Clarke and Lexa jump, startled by the sudden voice, and turn around to face the source. Clarke spares a look downward and notices for the first time that Lexa is wearing form-fitting space print boxers with a black waistband. If Raven weren’t standing there, staring at them both half naked while Lexa’s in rather obviously tight boxers, the blonde would have asked Lexa to tell her where she got them, too. _

_ Lexa doesn’t move. Instead, she stays frozen as her cheeks and ears turn deep red once again, her eyes widening as she takes in the situation. _

_ “You okay there, buddy?” Raven asks, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, realization dawns on her, and Clarke can see the flash in her eyes. _

_ “OH! Dude. Don’t even worry about it. Totally cool,” she says, stumbling over her words. Her own cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and despite Clarke’s protectiveness over Lexa, even she can’t help the little smile on her lips as Raven tries to reassure the other brunette. _

_ “Thanks, Raven,” Lexa says, jaw clenched slightly in discomfort. “What are you doing here, exactly?” _

_ “Left my lanyard in my locker,” Raven replies, awkwardly shifting past the brunette and Clarke. She quickly gets into her locker and pulls out, sure enough, her US Air Force lanyard. She places it around her neck, then shuts the locker door.  _

_ “Well, I’ll let you go, then. Bye Clarkey, bye Lexa!” she says, heading toward the locker room door. Clarke is just about to grab for the rest of her clothes when a voice calls back, echoing in the walls. _

_ “Also, Lexa, you’re really hot!” _

_ “RAVEN!” Clarke calls back warningly. She’s met with a loud laugh followed by the sound of the door closing as the short brunette leaves the room. _

_ Lexa chuckles, and Clarke rolls her eyes as they finally get the rest of their clothes on, leaving them with twenty some minutes left to talk before they have to go to their next period. They sit on the bench that Clarke first ran into three weeks ago. _

_ Silence falls over them for a few moments, then Lexa speaks. _

_ “So, is Raven right? Am I hot, Clarke?” she teases. Clarke rolls her eyes as hard as she can, but the blush creeping into her cheeks deceives her. She awards Lexa only with a playful swat to the arm and an amused smile. _

_ “Yes, then.” _

_ “Shut up, Lexa.” _

\--

With Raven and Octavia both knowing, now, there’s a noticeable change in Lexa’s demeanor when the four of them spend time together. The walls that she had been trying to protect herself with have fallen, and the Lexa that Clarke knew starts to shine through. Clarke wouldn’t admit it, but she’s grateful that there’s still parts of Lexa that only she gets to see when it’s just the two of them.

A week after the party, Clarke is in luck. Anya is at softball practice, and Abby is at work. It takes little to no pleading on their part to convince their parents to let Lexa come to Clarke’s house to avoid either of them being alone. Now, it’s 3:30 and they’re walking in the door to Clarke’s humble abode.

As the blonde shuts the door behind her, she kicks off her shoes and motions for Lexa to do the same. She wordlessly then takes their bookbags and drops them off in the corner of the living room where she always puts her things. 

“Hungry?” Clarke asks, stretching her shoulders. She’s convinced that her history textbook weighs her entire body weight doubled, and the heavy book along with an intense upper body workout in strength training does not mix well. 

“Nah. Are you?” Lexa replies, and Clarke shakes her head. She makes her way over to the brunette, who’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

“My room?” Clarke asks. Lexa smiles nervously and nods, trailing behind the blonde as they head toward the stairs.

When they reach Clarke’s room, the blonde immediately shuts the door behind them, then proceeds to leap into her bed. The soft mattress bounces slightly as it recovers from the impact, and Clarke makes no effort to move. She’s quite content lying on her stomach, and she’s too tired to think about adjusting. Instead, she simply pats the empty space next to her and waits for Lexa to fill it.

She gets her wish a moment later when Lexa gently settles down onto the bed, lying on her back. She turns her head toward Clarke, and the blonde smiles sleepily in return.

Suddenly, an idea strikes her. It’s a risky one, and she worries whether the brunette will like it or be apt to it, but she decides to take a leap of faith and ask it anyway.

“Tell me about your life,” she requests. She wants to hear it all, and she doesn’t want it to sound like she’s asking only about Lexa’s transition. She wants to know Lexa on a deeper level than that, and she refuses to trap the brunette in the idea that her gender is the only important part of her.

“What about it?” Lexa asks calmly. Clarke sighs, relieved.

“All of it. Day one until now, all the important stuff,” the blonde replies. She decides to flip over onto her back and finds herself absently scooting closer to Lexa. The brunette doesn’t seem to mind, however, as she reaches out her slender fingers to intertwine with Clarke’s. Clarke squeezes her hand gently to encourage her to begin.

“Day one? Well then,” Lexa says, taking a deep breath. She looks upward, as though searching for what to say.

“I was born three years after my older sister Anya. My mother’s name was Alexandria. She looked just like me...the only difference was her chocolate brown instead of my green ones. She died when I was six. It was risky enough having Anya, and her body just never recovered from having me. She was sick for all those years, and one day, her body just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Clarke runs her thumb gently across Lexa’s.

“I don’t blame myself, though. It wasn’t my fault. It was no one’s fault. And I must be here for a reason. Anyway...I was a healthy baby boy named Alexander Gustus Woods. I was born with dark hair, but it lightened as I got older.”

“Is Gustus your father’s name?” Clarke asks, taking a shot in the dark. To her surprise, Lexa nods. 

“Gustus took on Anya and I by himself after Mom died, and he did an amazing job of it. He has an amazing job. We’ve never had to want for anything, and he’s gone above and beyond. When Anya was eleven and I was seven, he bought a matte black grand piano and put it in the corner of the living room so it wasn’t in the way of the television.”

Lexa chuckles, now.

“Not that it would have mattered. Anya and I seemed to forget that television even existed with the piano in the room. We taught ourselves to play in no time.”

“Life really went pretty smoothly and normally for the first thirteen years. Anya, Gustus, and I were happy, and no great crises came our way. As for me...I wasn’t all that different. I loved race cars and trains, I hated Barbies, and I was a normal boy. The only issue I ever had was the fact that I would never spell my name right. I always wrote Lexa instead. My teachers tried to correct me, but I was adamant. My father assured them it was simply because of my mother, and they eventually gave up on making me write my name properly. However, they still called me Alex. I hated it.”

“I was fourteen when I realized that I didn’t want to be Alex anymore. It took me a year to come to terms with it, two days from then for me to tell Anya and Dad, ten days for Anya to speak to me, ten minutes for Dad to agree to get me the things I needed, and six more months to get me started on hormones.”

“Ten days for Anya to speak to you?” Clarke asks, turning her head. Lexa meets her eyes and sighs, a flash of sadness flitting across her emerald orbs.

“She didn’t want to be the sister of a freak,” she says, quieter than before. Clarke’s heart falls to the floor. Before she can outwardly react, Lexa speaks again. “When she finally came to her senses, she came to me bawling and telling me I was beautiful. She promised she would protect me, and she always has.”

A tiny grin plays at Lexa’s lips, now, and Clarke can’t help to return it. There’s a slight chill in the air conditioned room, and she wants to reach down to grab the covers, but she doesn’t dare tear her eyes from Lexa as she continues.

“That night, we sat down at the piano for four hours and learned to play the Star Wars theme. It was my favorite piece in the world at that time, and it’s still my favorite song to play with her.”

Sometime in the midst of Lexa’s explanation thus far, Clarke’s fingers unlaced from Lexa’s and began to gently trace up and down the brunette’s arm. Lexa seems to notice, now, and a content smile settles onto her lips.

It falters moments later, however, and Clarke gets the sense that the next part of the story isn’t one of the best chapters.

“When I started noticing changes, so did the rest of my classmates. I was bullied relentlessly. I couldn’t join any sports because the school didn’t know which team to put me on. I had to change in the bathroom for gym because they didn’t know which locker room I belonged in. I didn’t have many friends to begin with, but I lost nearly all of them. I was alone. An outcast.”

Lexa’s voice is soft, now, barely audible. Clarke reaches down and intertwines their fingers once more, then squeezes the brunette’s hand tightly in comfort. She wants to do something, anything more, but she doesn’t know what. Instead, she simply keeps a hold on Lexa’s hand and waits for the brunette to continue. When she doesn’t Clarke thinks of a question.

“Nearly all your friends,” she repeats. “Who didn’t you lose?”

Lexa sighs, a small, sad smile creeping onto her lips. She looks as though something heavy is weighing down on her, and Clarke hopes that talking about it just might help that heaviness disappear. 

“Costia had been my best friend since I was five. She was the only one who ever called me Lexa back then, and I clung to her. Lucky for me, she clung back,” Lexa chuckles. 

“Man, she was a character. Wild brown curls, freckles covering her cheeks, and the brightest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Like a nebula illuminated in space,” she marvels. Clarke can tell without Lexa saying it that the brunette loved her. She listens in adoration as Lexa continues to gush.

“I want to say that I fell in love with her after I started noticing changes, but that simply isn’t true. I was in love with her the day I met her, I just didn’t realize it until then. We didn’t discuss it, we didn’t ask...we just sort of happened. No one doubted that we were dating, and we knew it.”

“When the bullying started, she was ferocious, really. She had insults lined up for anyone who ever tried to hurt me, and she once punched a guy to protect me. Soon, though, the bullies weren’t just targeting me. Because she was mine, they tortured her. Bullied her, beat her, messed with her head.”

Lexa’s breath hitches, and when Clarke looks up from their entangled hands, her heart breaks. The brunette’s eyes are full to the brim with tears that threaten to spill over at any moment, but she fights to keep her expression emotionless. She closes her eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay, but they spill over onto her cheeks against her will. Clarke reaches up with her free hand instinctively and wipes them away, her thumb caressing the brunette’s cheek without thought.

“I can’t blame her,” Lexa whispers, her voice strained. “A person can only take so much before they can’t do it anymore.”

“Did she leave you?” Clarke asks, her voice gentle. She’s hanging onto Lexa’s every word.

“Yeah,” Lexa says, the word coming out more as a sob. Clarke’s heart skips a beat. “Guess you could say she really reached the end of her rope.”

The blonde’s stomach lurches at the words, and her eyes begin to burn. She forgets how to breathe for a moment, and Lexa seems to sense that. The brunette tightens her grip on Clarke’s hand and quickly continues.

“I thought I’d never get over the pain, but I did,” she sniffles, her voice cracking on the last two words. She takes a second to steady herself, but tears still drip down her cheeks. “We moved away from Treeview, New York in the middle of my eighth grade year, right in the dead of winter. It was frigid there, so it was a little strange to step of the plane at LAX to hot weather. We came up to the house here in Arkadia, and I started at Arkadia Middle School the first day after winter break ended.”

Clarke allows herself a small smile. She can recall the exact day that Lexa is talking about. The new girl with brunette hair at such a weird length walked into her first period math class, eyes to the floor and hands shaking as she sat in the farthest seat she could find. It took Clarke two years to work up the nerve to say hi, but now, she wishes she’d taken that empty seat right next to her.

“Slowly, things started getting better. No one here knew about my past. I was just the girl who looked a little weird, but I was still a girl. Even in the school’s database, I was Alexandria Anya Woods. No one bullied me, but I wasn’t ready to try to make friends. I threw myself into my studies and began to work on building the muscular, strong body I wanted. I wanted to look strong on the outside no matter how weak I was on the inside.”

The words throw Clarke for a loop. It’s strange to hear her own philosophy repeated back to her.

“Things finally stopped hurting so much. Now that I’ve found you and your friends, I’m starting to feel okay again.”

There’s a finality to her words, and Clarke smiles, now. She doesn’t think as she closes the small distance between their bodies and curls into Lexa’s side. Lexa reacts instantly, unclasping their hands to wrap her arms around the blonde. 

It should be strange. They’d only spoken in passing before three weeks ago, and three weeks isn’t a long time. It shouldn’t feel this easy, this normal to be with Lexa like this. But it is.

“Your turn,” the brunette says, her voice steadier than it was moments before. Clarke smiles against Lexa’s collarbone, then breathes in deeply. The smell of earth and floral perfume fills her nose, and it takes all the blonde has not to close her eyes and give into the tiredness of the week. Instead, she clears her throat and starts from the beginning.

“I’ve lived here all my life. I was born to Abby and Jake Griffin at the hospital where my mom works. Dad worked as a firefighter, and Mom tells me that the whole time, he kept praying that he wouldn’t get a call and have to miss my birth. He got his wish, and at 3 am, he held me for the first time.”

“I was a bit of a sickly child for the first few years of my life. Ear infections constantly, a lovely bout of pneumonia that almost killed me...I wasn’t easy,” she says, chuckling lightly. “Luckily, I had a doctor for a mother, and I made it through. My health started evening out when I was four. Dad was so excited to see me healthy that he became determined to teach me how to play the guitar. I can’t even count the number of nights I sat next to him with my tiny little acoustic guitar as he played this navy blue six string. By the time I was ten, I was just as good as him, or so he said.”

“School life was pretty simple. Mom was friends with Aurora and Sinclair, the Blake’s mother and Raven’s dad since before we were all born. We grew up together. I don’t think we went more than two days without seeing at least one of the other three, and we couldn’t have been happier about it. We all strived to do well in school, and for the most part, we did. Raven was the slacker of the group, but she shaped up by the time middle school came around.”

Clarke pauses. Lexa seemed so good at speaking, but it was never Clarke’s strong suit. Luckily, Lexa jumps in asking questions so that she didn’t have to worry.

“What was life like at home?”

“Pretty perfect. Mom and Dad hardly ever disagreed, and I don’t think I ever saw them yell at each other. They both had exhausting jobs, but somehow, we always managed to find time for family time. We may not have had family dinners around the table, but our hour of TV or playing guitar in the living room for Mom was enough.”

“You seem like quite the daddy’s girl,” Lexa teases, her words slightly muffled by the blonde’s hair. Clarke sighs against the brunette’s neck, her eyes falling shut as an all too familiar sadness begins to creep in.

“Yeah, I was,” she whispers. Lexa stills. As Clarke prepares herself to speak, she can already feel her eyes beginning to burn.

“Everything was mostly perfect. Work got exhausting, and sometimes our little friend group got into petty fights, but nothing too much to complain about. We didn’t want for much, and I never really felt all that unhappy. But of course, no one gets that lucky, right?”

“Clarke…”

“It’s okay,” the blonde whispers as Lexa’s arms tighten around her. Lexa doesn’t respond, so through blurred vision and a shaky voice, Clarke continues.

“It was a fire that killed him. No, not even the fire itself. Oxygen deprivation. He suffocated there, trying to save the people stuck inside. But the fire was too large; too far gone. No one made it out alive.”

“When?” Lexa asks as Clarke’s face contorts with pain. The tears that had been welling in her eyes stream down her cheeks, creating damp spots on Lexa’s shirt.

“Three years ago. You remember how you said that you started working out to be strong on the outside, even if you weren’t on the inside?”

Lexa nods, her chin bumping against the top of Clarke’s head.

“We’re not so different, it seems,” Clarke says. Lexa nods once more.

Clarke doesn’t feel up to explaining the uneventful few years following her father’s death, and Lexa doesn’t ask anymore. Instead, they stay in each other’s arms silently, and Clarke’s tears slowly ebb. Still, even so, Lexa doesn’t let go.

In the silence that settles over the two, Clarke finally opens her eyes. Her lashes are still damp, but she blinks the moisture away and focuses on the girl holding her tight. The blonde’s eyes trace the curve of Lexa’s collarbone, the goosebumps that rise on her soft, tanned skin, and the little freckle right over her throat. The brunette swallows, then, and for some silly reason, the sight of the freckle bouncing almost makes Clarke laugh. When Lexa pulls back slightly to meet Clarke’s eyes, however, the grin is wiped off her face. 

Lexa is close. Clarke can only see her eyes, those daunting, mesmerizing emerald green eyes that sparkle like a jewel. Their noses are almost touching, and Clarke can feel the brunette’s breath on her own lips. They inch closer, slowly, tentatively, testing the waters.

It is Lexa who kisses her first, gentle and cautiously like she’s afraid to jump in right away. She moves slowly and tenderly traps Clarke’s bottom lip between her own. Clarke’s eyes fall shut, and she lets out a sigh of content as she kisses Lexa back with just a bit more force. A few moments later, the blonde pulls back and rests her head against Lexa’s. Her heart is racing, and her breath comes out in ragged pants.

“Clarke? Are you okay?”

Clarke smiles slightly, still shaky. Her entire body is trembling, and she can’t figure out why she’s having this sort of reaction. She nods feebly, and Lexa’s concerned hands press against her back to steady her.

“If you don’t want this, we don’t have to. I’m content just being your f-”

Clarke cuts the brunette’s rambling off with her lips. The kiss is still slow, but deeper this time, more passionate. This time, Clarke takes the lead, pushing forward slightly against Lexa’s lips. She swears she can feel the brunette smiling into the kiss.

When they pull back this time for need for air, they are both shaky, giggling messes. Clarke feels lightheaded, and she’s still trying to figure out why Lexa’s presence is doing this to her. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a sense of pride at having the same effect on Lexa, too.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs, the words tumbling free from her mouth before she realizes it. Lexa smiles ear to ear, wider than Clarke thinks she’s ever seen the girl smile, and she rests her forehead on Clarke’s once again. Their breath mixes together, and it’s an intoxicating feeling.

Lexa leans up and places a quick kiss to Clarke’s nose, and Clarke feels a blush creep onto her cheeks at Lexa’s next words.

“Not as beautiful as you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke sighs as she settles against the bark of the tree in the school courtyard. Her Mickey Mouse tank top is sticking to her skin in the most uncomfortable of ways, leaving unsightly dark patches on the marbled red material. Lexa looks over at her sympathetically as she hands off Clarke’s portion of the lunch she’s packed. Clarke thanks her with a silent nod and turns just in time to see their friends approaching from across the courtyard.

Lexa scoots back and leans against the tree next to Clarke, making space for the rest of their friends. Their pinkies absently intertwine as the blonde smiles up at Raven, the first to arrive to the tree.

“I don’t even want to smile. That would require movement. Which will probably make me sweat more,” the brunette groans, wincing as she sits on the bright green grass next to Clarke. She’s just barely in the shade, but it’s enough that she doesn’t have to squint. She uses this newfound ability to glare as hard as she can at Clarke, trying her damndest to convey how much she hates this heat.

“Why are you glaring at me? I can’t kill the sun,” Clarke says, taking her first bite of her sandwich. She almost moans in delight at the refreshing sensation of the lettuce and tomato she sinks her teeth into.

Bellamy, Jasper, and Monty settle themselves around the three girls shortly after, immediately digging into whatever the school lunch is that day. Clarke fights the urge to roll her eyes at the way they eat so piggishly and without manners, but she reminds herself that these are her boys, and this is what she’s grown up with. As she looks over at Bellamy, who’s already stuffing his face with a chicken sandwich, Clarke wonders for a moment how she’s done it all these years.

She’s brought out of her trance when Lexa speaks up from her spot next to her.

“Where’s O?”

Everyone pauses mid-bite, looking around as if they had somehow just missed her sitting down. Sure enough, the brunette in question is nowhere to be found.

“Did she say she was going to be anywhere?” Lexa asks, looking to Raven. Raven puts down her sandwich and wipes her face on the back of her hand, eyebrow raised in concern as she scans the courtyard.

“I think she said she was going to meet Atom somewhere, but she should be out here by now,” she says.

Right on cue, Octavia appears through the doors all the way across the courtyard. Her head is down, her hair that’s usually up falling around her face now. She grips the styrofoam tray in her hands hard enough that even across the way, Clarke can see the tips of her knuckles turning white. The blonde’s heart flutters for a moment when she gets a glimpse of Octavia’s face, and her protective mode kicks into high gear.

“She’s crying,” Clarke says, pushing her food off to the side. She stands, using the tree to steady herself as she nearly trips from the speed at which she rose. The others are not far after, but no one chases Octavia down. Instead, they wait for her to approach the group. 

By the time she gets there, she’s visibly shaking. Clarke gently takes the tray out of her hand and hands it to Monty, who sets it on the ground next to him, out of the way. Octavia doesn’t protest as Bellamy helps her out of her bookbag and immediately pulls her into his arms. She lets out a choked sob as he begins rubbing slow circles on her back, something Clarke recognizes as his go-to comforting mechanism. 

Wordlessly, they all sit, lunches set aside. Clarke makes a note to remind them to eat more later tonight, because they sure as hell aren’t going to be concerned about food right now. Octavia sits between her brother and Raven, both of whom have an arm wrapped around her tightly.

For a solid ten minutes, nobody says a word. Octavia cries, not so silently, and no one tries to force her to talk. Instead, they offer her hands to hold, comforting touches, and warmth to lean into.

Only when the brunette’s tears begin to ebb does anyone speak up.

“Does Commander Lexa need to kill somebody?” Lexa whispers, the tiniest of smiles on her face in attempt to lighten the mood.

Clarke can tell that Octavia tries, she really tries to smile back, but she just can’t. Instead, her lip quivers, and she’s teetering on the edge of breaking down again.

“I was a bet,” she whispers. Clarke freezes, her blood running cold. If Octavia means what the blonde thinks she means, someone really will die today. Lexa places a warning hand on Clarke’s arm.

“What do you mean?” Jasper asks. Octavia sighs, trying to steady herself.

“Atom. He and his friends bet on me. Said they’d give Atom twenty bucks for every week I actually believed he liked me,” she replies, her voice shaking. “Hey, he’s a lot richer now. Good for him.”

Raven clenches her jaw hard, seething. Clarke can see it in her eyes that she’s got a murder buddy.

“I know you, O. Something else happened,” Bellamy whispers, clenching and unclenching his fist. Two buddies.

Octavia looks down and squeezes her eyes shut, her lip trembling and brows furrowed tightly together. Fresh tears make their way down her cheeks, and they drip onto Clarke’s hand as she rests it on the brunette’s knee.

“He called me worthless.”

Immediately, Clarke and Raven stand, cracking their knuckles. Raven’s jaw is set tightly, the muscle working furiously as her eyes dart back and forth in anger. She and Clarke are just about to head off to find Atom when the blonde feels a familiar hand on her calf. She whips around, her expression softening immediately when Lexa’s gaze meets her. The brunette doesn’t have to speak for Clarke to know that she needs to sit down and relax. Wordlessly, she obeys her girlfriend’s (girlfriend’s?) silent orders.

Lexa scoots around Clarke and places herself in front of Octavia. She reaches out hesitantly, extending her fingers to the still-crying brunette. Octavia takes her hand gingerly and intertwines their fingers, and Lexa tightens her grip in an attempt to steady her. Clarke’s heart practically melts at the sight.

“Look at me.”

Lexa’s voice is soft, incredibly gentle. Clarke isn’t sure she’s heard the brunette use that tone with anyone other than her, but no jealousy washes over her at the sound. Instead, she listens in awe.

Octavia complies, looking up at Lexa almost fearfully. It breaks Clarke’s heart to see this side of her best friend again. The past few years have transformed Octavia from her old, timid, unconfident self into the beautifully outgoing and confident person she is now, and seeing her best friend look so afraid again makes Clarke want to cry. 

“You are not a piece in anyone’s game,” Lexa says, holding Octavia’s gaze. Immediately, Octavia’s eyes begin to water again. Bellamy starts rubbing those circles once more.

“You take Trig, right? That’s your foreign language?” Lexa asks. The question catches everyone offguard, and it takes Octavia out of her emotion for just a moment. She raises an eyebrow and nods, confused.

“Good. Then hear this,” Lexa says. She runs her thumb across the back of Octavia’s palm, and Clarke’s melting. Lexa isn’t even looking at her or telling her these things, but it’s almost as if she is all the same. Raven, usually jumping in with jokes or witty remarks, is in silent wonder as she listens to Lexa’s every word.

“Yu ste yuj,” the brunette whispers. The ghost of a smile appears on Octavia’s face, and Clarke can’t help but smile too. “Yu ste yuj, en yu nou ste branwada. Yu gonplei ste nou odon, Oktevia.”

Octavia giggles though tears still stream down her cheeks, and this time, her smile is a genuine one. It reaches from ear to ear, and everyone seems to breathe a sigh of relief. Lexa breaks eye contact with Octavia only to meet Bellamy’s eyes. He gives a gentle nod, and Lexa simply smiles in return.

“Well, you’re going to pass the Trig final,” Octavia says. Her voice is stronger than before, and the heaviness in Clarke’s heart begins to lift. Everyone lets out a gentle chuckle at Octavia’s words, and Lexa beams in response.

“Shush,” she mutters. Her expression turns slightly serious again, and Octavia notices. “Do you hear what I said, though? Don’t you forget that.”

“Yes, Commander,” Octavia replies, and though her words seem to brush off what Lexa’s saying, Clarke can see in her eyes that she really heard Lexa.

Suddenly, the ringing of the bell startles them out of their moment, and Raven sighs. 

“See you guys later,” Jasper says, helping Monty up. “Octavia...you’re better than him. I mean it.”

Octavia grins and waves as the two boys head off. Shortly after, she joins Bellamy and Raven, hand in hand, and the three of them head to class as well.

That leaves just Clarke and Lexa at the tree once again. Clarke knows they should hurry, as they’ll likely be late (again), but she has other priorities first.

“I don’t think you know how much that meant to her,” the blonde says, helping Lexa to her feet. They grab for the various styrofoam trays still left, stacking them to make them easier to carry as they make their way across the courtyard.

Lexa shrugs slightly, a gentle smile playing at her lips. 

“I know what it’s like to be called worthless,” she says, and Clarke’s heart threatens to break again. “I just didn’t want her to believe that for even a second.”

Clarke doesn’t think. She tosses the trays in the trash and immediately lunges forward, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s neck. Lexa doesn’t react at first, but when she finally processes, she wraps her arms around Clarke’s middle. They’re definitely going to be late.

“You aren’t worthless either, Lex,” Clarke whispers against the brunette’s wavy hair. Her eyes fall shut, and she presses a gentle kiss to the nearest patch of skin she can reach. She’s fairly certain she can feel Lexa smiling.

“You make me believe that.”

Clarke decides then and there that she wants to spend an infinite amount of time making sure Lexa never doubts it again.

\--

The rest of the day moves by rather quickly. For once in her life, Clarke is actually focused on her classes. She decides that maybe it isn’t so bad, because the more focused she is, the faster time passes by. 

As wonderful as this revelation is, the best part of the day thus far happens just after the final bell rings and students pour out the front doors. Clarke immediately meets up with Octavia and Raven, both of whom are mumbling about an essay that they have to write in one night. The blonde can’t help but grin, amused at her friends’ annoyance. She’s about to pitch in her two cents about the class when an unwelcome but familiar face approaches them. When Clarke looks up to meet his eyes, she’s grateful for the cool breeze against her face, because it heats with rage almost instantly.

“Go away,” Clarke spits, shoving past him as hard as she can. He lets out a grunt as their shoulders slam into each other, but Clarke doesn’t respond. Instead, she reaches back to grab hold of Octavia’s hand and pull her forward. Still, the boy does not let up.

“Oh come on,” he says, following close behind. They pick up the speed of their walking, but still, he is relentless. They’re practically jogging, now, nearly off school grounds. Clarke hopes that she’ll meet Lexa just a little bit closer than their usual meeting spot, because she fears that if no one holds her back, she might just finish the business she had intended to start at lunch. Judging by the look in Raven’s eyes when Clarke looks back to check on Octavia, she has someone who will back her on that notion.

They cross the line of school grounds, and still, he has not let up.

“Will you just slow down? Jesus! I just want to talk to her!”

“Not today, asshole,” Raven snarls, holding onto Octavia’s other hand. Octavia stares down at the ground, and Clarke’s heart aches. She thinks it will always hurt to see Octavia revert back to the person she was before. 

“You don’t have to be such a prick about it, Crip.”

The three of them freeze immediately. Raven doesn’t react outwardly, but Clarke can see right through her. The brunette’s eyes flash with hurt that no one else would have picked up on. Clarke swears she sees Octavia actually bare her teeth, and that does it. The blonde’s blue orbs ice over, and she lets go of Octavia’s hand.

_ Sorry, Lexa. _

The next thing Clarke hears is a loud crack of skin against skin, and her knuckles immediately begin to burn. Atom stumbles backward, letting out a sharp hiss of pain. His hand flies up to his jaw and covers it gingerly, but it doesn’t hide the bruise that immediately has begun to form. Clarke swears she can see his eyes watering, and it shouldn’t make her proud, but it does.

She doesn’t have much time to relish in that pride, however, because Atom attempts to retaliate almost immediately. He draws his hand back and lunges forward at Clarke.

Out of nowhere, another hand reaches in and grabs his forearm, stopping the momentum almost entirely. Lexa twists his arm in a way that looks incredibly painful, and Atom falls to the ground instantly, writhing in pain as he holds his reddening arm.

“Leave us,” Lexa growls. And it truly is a growl. Clarke has never heard this tone from Lexa before, and judging by the wide eyes of Octavia and Raven, they haven’t, either.

No one has to tell Atom twice. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he pulls himself to his feet, but he runs off without a second glance.

When Lexa whips around, it actually amazes Clarke to watch the way her features transform. Her commanding, authoritative rage gives way to concern in seconds flat, and the brunette rushes over to the three of them.

“Did he hurt you?” she asks, looking each person up and down. Her eyes linger on Clarke for just a moment more, and the blonde’s heart flutters as worried eyes plead to hear that she’s safe. Clarke shakes her head to ease Lexa’s mind, and the brunette lets out a sigh of relief.

“I’m going to walk O home. Thank you, Lexa,” Raven says. Her voice is slightly unsteady, and Clarke instinctively reaches out to place a hand on her arm. Raven smiles as best as she can, and Octavia does the same.

“See you guys later. Be safe,” Clarke says. Octavia nods, then the two of them head off.

Clarke and Lexa don’t turn back to each other until they watch the pair safely cross the street and round the corner. Only when they’re out of sight does Clarke look over to Lexa again.

“When did you learn how to do that?” she asks, and the tension in the air falls away completely. They both let out breathy giggles, and Clarke feels lighter at the sound. Lexa opens her mouth to respond, but an unfamiliar voice cuts her off.

“I taught her. Told you it would come in handy, Commander.”

While Clarke doesn’t recognize the voice, Lexa certainly does. Her eyes widen in surprise as she whips around on her heels, and the mystery person comes out of hiding.

A tall, muscular woman steps out from behind a tree. She’s dressed in clothes much like Lexa’s typical attire: jean shorts, sneakers, and a black muscle tank. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled up into a bun, revealing the sharpest cheekbones that Clarke has ever seen. The only makeup the woman wears is simple eyeliner around her eyes, making the dark hazel color of her eyes stand out even brighter. The corner of her mouth is pulled upward into a smirk. Clarke hates the fact that she feels a little intimidated.

Lexa practically jumps at the woman, and their arms wrap around each other. Mystery Girl’s smirk turns into a full blown smile, and Clarke would recognize that smile anywhere. It’s the same as Lexa’s, and suddenly, the mystery identity of this woman isn’t as much of a mystery anymore.

“You must be Anya,” Clarke says, a small smile playing at her lips. She approaches the pair tentatively, not wanting to intrude. The woman extends a hand, keeping the other wrapped around Lexa’s shoulders.

“And you must be Clarke,” she says. Clarke takes the woman’s hand and shakes it. Anya’s handshake is firm, just the way Clarke’s father had always said a handshake should be. Clarke matches the firmness, but keeps a smile on her face.

“How did you know?” Clarke asks. When Lexa’s ears start to go red, however, the blonde is fairly sure she already has the answer to that question.

“Right, yes, anyway…” the brunette says, trying to deflect the attention away from the obvious, “what exactly are you doing here?”

“Gee thanks, sis,” Anya deadpans, and Clarke snorts. A tiny smile ghosts Anya’s lips again. “I came to spend some time with my sister while I can. Is that a crime?”

Lexa grins, and Clarke can’t help but notice how a childlike wonder shines in the brunette’s eyes.

“Does your girlfriend want to come along?” Anya asks, looking up at Clarke. The blonde’s cheeks go pink at the term, and Lexa suddenly seems adorably bashful. 

“If that’s okay with you both, I’d love to,” Clarke says, and Lexa nods.

“Well come on then, we don’t have all day,” Anya teases. She walks forward in front of them, purposely taking long strides that leave Clarke and Lexa practically running to keep up.

“Is she always like this?” Clarke whispers, and Lexa snorts. They nearly trip over a jagged piece of sidewalk, but once they’re steady, she responds.

“Constantly,” she replies, and Clarke smiles. She has a feeling she’s going like Anya.

\--

The trio immediately heads straight down Main Street to the ice cream shop. Something about the way Lexa and Anya stroll in and head straight for the same table in the corner of the room makes Clarke get the impression that this is a regular place for them. Lexa reaches behind her and pulls out an orange chair from the table adjacent to theirs and places the chair on the other side of the table, so that Clarke is sitting with her back toward the counter.

“You two stay here, I’ll order,” Anya says, standing from her seat. She pushes the chair in and fishes for a few bills out of her pocket. The second Clarke begins to do the same, a surprisingly strong hand reaches down to swat her away.

“Not a chance, Princess,” Anya quips, and Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“And how’d you hear that nickname?” she asks, but she knows the answer before Anya answers. Lexa’s cheeks and ears burn red, and it’s all Clarke can do to bite back a smile.

“What do you suggest, Lex?” the blonde asks, and Lexa quirks her lips in thought.

“One, an ice pack for your hand. You’re bruising already but it doesn’t hurt to try the ice. Two, you should try their mint chocolate chip. It’s incredible,” she says finally. She reaches over to Clarke’s injured hand, which, sure enough, is already starting to turn unsightly shades of blue and purple. Clarke winces as Lexa’s finger grazes one of the more sensitive spots, and the brunette immediately jerks her hand back.

“Our usual, mint chocolate chip, and an ice pack coming right up,” Anya says. There’s a hint of a smirk on her lips as she spins around and heads toward the counter.

When Anya returns a few minutes later with ice cream and an ice pack as promised, Clarke learns that Lexa has fantastic taste in ice cream. As she takes a bite of the creamy green treat, she practically moans in delight at the way it melts over her tongue instantly.

“Oh my God,” she praises, a drip nearly falling from the corner of her mouth. As Lexa dives into her sea salted caramel, she lets out a snort at the sight. Anya smirks for real this time.

“Now, Griffin, before we get any cozier, I think you and I should have a talk,” the dirty blonde haired woman says, her gaze suddenly slightly more pointed. Clarke hates the way she feels her heart stutter at the shift in mood. She fights the urge to gulp and simply holds Anya’s gaze, waiting for her to continue. Lexa groans and hides her face in her hands, which almost makes Clarke smile, but Anya’s stare is far too intimidating for that.

“My sister is the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Anya begins. Her tone is stern, but the words still hold an unquantifiable amount of love. From the corner of Clarke’s eye, she can see Lexa’s smile peeking out from under her hands. Still, Clarke only nods and listens.

“Hurt her and you hurt me. Hurt me and you’ll pay for it. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t dream of hurting Lexa,” Clarke assures, her words coming out embarrassingly rushed and shaky. She clears her throat. “Worst nightmare, actually.”

The words aren’t a lie to make Anya feel better - they’re the truth. The idea of ever causing Lexa pain makes Clarke’s eyes burn at the mere thought. She decided weeks ago that she only ever wants to bring the brunette happiness, because she deserves that. She’s deserved it for a long time, and it’s about time that she gets it.

“I’m glad we’ve come to this agreement,” Anya says. Her words are less threatening, now, and Clarke lets out a sigh of relief. She’s passed the test. 

Lexa finally moves her hands away from her face, and anyone looking at her could tell how hard she’s trying not to smile. Her cheeks are pulled inward between her teeth, but Lexa has a beautiful habit of smiling with her eyes. As the brunette looks up at Anya, her emerald orbs are glimmering under the low-hanging lights with awe and appreciation.

The three of them sit there at the table long after the ice cream is finished, the remnants of the toppings collected at the bottom of their bowls. They talk about anything and everything. Clarke hears lovely embarrassing baby stories of Lexa that she is certain she’s going to use for blackmail, interesting details about the sisters’ past, and even shares some of her own past with the two of them. However, Clarke’s favorite thing about the conversation by far is the way Anya praises Lexa endlessly.

“You know, I still think about those ten days sometimes,” Anya says, her voice quieting. It’s a stark transition from the story about Lexa falling down the stairs when she thought she could fly, and the air shifts immediately. The grin on Lexa’s face falters, but not necessarily in a bad way. Clarke listens silently as Anya turns to her.

“I was an idiot, if you haven’t gathered that already,” Anya says, putting on the smallest of smiles. Clarke gives one in return and fights the urge to reach out a hand to comfort the older woman. 

“Because this girl here,” she continues, turning her attention from Clarke to Lexa for a moment, “is the bravest girl I’ve ever known.”

“Oh shut up,” Lexa mutters, looking down. She twiddles her thumbs in her lap as a bashful halfhearted smile tugs at her lips. 

“No, Lex. I mean it,” Anya insists. Her words are serious, and heavy in the best way. She reaches out and places a finger under her little sister’s chin and gently brings it upwards so their eyes can meet. Once Lexa’s looking up, doe-eyed and speechless, Anya turns back to Clarke.

“I can’t even imagine having the strength that she has. I may have taught her how to fight, but she was a warrior from the day she was born.”

Though the words are in praise of Lexa, they still make Clarke’s eyes water. Lexa’s smiling now, fully, and Clarke thinks it’s the most exquisite thing she’s ever seen, even after all this time. The two of them lock gazes, and Clarke can see the brunette melt under the adoring stares of both Clarke and Anya at the same time.  

Still, though, she clears her throat and straightens her back. “When did you get to be such a softie?”

Anya laughs, the serious mood in the air lightening slightly. She leans back against her chair and crosses her arms comfortably across her chest.

“Since that tenth day,” she admits. The rush of adoration and awe in Clarke’s chest is a feeling she wants to hold on to. Anya and Lexa’s bond is something so rare and special that Clarke has only seen in the Blakes before, and she wants to surround herself with that kind of love as much as she can.

When Abby calls Clarke home, she reluctantly parts from the pair. They stand and stretch their limbs, aching from the long period of time that they’d been in the same position, and head toward the door. 

When they get outside and reach the corner where they’ll be heading opposite directions, they pause. Clarke turns to face Anya and Lexa, a small smile on her face.

She isn’t quite sure what to say to the older of the two, so instead, she reaches out her hand in hopes that the action will speak louder than any words she might come up with. She’s taken by surprise when Anya grabs her forearm, just before her elbow. After a moment’s hesitation, Clarke does the same back, and Anya smiles proudly.

“Woods family handshake,” she says, their arms still intertwined. As if on cue, they both tighten their grip for just a moment before letting their arms fall slack against their sides. Still, yet, they hold their gaze, having a silent conversation unbeknownst to the brunette waiting next to them.

_ Please take care of her,  _ Anya pleads.

_ Always. _

When Clarke feels certain that they’ve both gotten their point across, she gives Anya a subtle nod and turns her attention to Lexa.

It’s amazing, really. She’s just leaning against the stoplight post, absently poking at the crosswalk button. Her shirt is ruffled upward just a bit, revealing tanned skin beneath, and her hair is tangling slightly as it flows in the breeze. Her eyes are squinting against the late afternoon sun as they focus on the button, tracing over the textured pad atop of it, and still, she is beautiful. Not just beautiful like a passing stranger that’s caught your eye. For Clarke, she is beautiful in the way that when she is around, there is nothing else. All surroundings cease to exist but for this wonderful person standing before her.

She doesn’t realize she’s been staring so long until Lexa clears her throat, a pleased grin on her face. Clarke feels her cheeks heating up as she steps forward, trying to distract the brunette’s attention from the fact that she was ogling her shamelessly. Lexa gently pushes herself upright off of the post and faces Clarke. 

Wordlessly, the two of them lean forward and capture the other in a tight embrace. Clarke rests her head on Lexa’s shoulder and allows her eyes to fall shut as she simply breathes the girl in. Lexa’s thumb is already rubbing circles in the small of her back, and Clarke wonders how her girlfriend knows that’s exactly the spot that comforts her the most.

The term strikes her suddenly, and she realizes it’s the second time today that she’s thought it. Reluctantly, the blonde pulls back. The loss of touch is made up for by the enamored look in Lexa’s eyes, however, and Clarke has to swallow to steady herself before she speaks.

“Question,” she says.

“Answer.”

“Girlfriend?”

Lexa grins. “Wow, Griff. So articulate. So eloquent, really.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, the nerves she’s feeling only spiking at the brunette’s lack of distinct response.

“Alexandria, I’ll punch you,” she mutters, and she hears a snort behind them. She doesn’t have to look up to know that it’s Anya, and she giggles as she realizes the girl’s been eavesdropping.

Clarke looks up at Lexa expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Girlfriend,” she finally confirms, and Clarke practically collapses back into Lexa’s arms. Lexa chuckles and turns to place a kiss to the blonde’s temple, a gesture so gentle that it makes Clarke’s heart hurt. Her lips ghost against the skin of Lexa’s neck, and she grins as she feels the tiny shudder that runs through her  _ girlfriend’s  _ body.

They part moments later, a second text from Abby alerting her that her favorite dish is prepared for dinner at home. The call is too good for Clarke to deny, and she knows Lexa and Anya have to get home anyway. 

She doesn’t mean to, but Clarke watches Lexa walk away until she’s out of sight. She knows she’s going to be late getting home, but if it means another second looking at a beauty like her, it’s worth it. She’s worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed so far! Fair warning...the next chapter is when the "M" rating starts to come into play a bit. I promise, though, it won't be done the wrong way. Not sure when chapter five will be up, but hopefully by the end of the weekend!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M rating comes into play in this chapter. I hope you enjoy! This is my first time writing anything that constitutes as M rated.

“Why, Lexa? Why do I have to do this?”

Clarke groans as she allows herself to fall forward, body twisted in an awkward position as her head lands in Lexa’s lap. The brunette sighs and places the papers in her hands on the floor next to them, then proceeds to run her fingers through Clarke’s tangled, wavy blonde locks.

“Any help here? Anybody? Houston?” Lexa says, exasperated, to the people around her. Clarke peeks her head up from the brunette’s lap and brushes her hair out of her face. She bites back a grin at the sight of the people scattered around her living room.

Octavia is laying with her head in Raven’s lap and her feet in Bellamy’s. Bellamy is wearing his glasses, a rare, adorable sight that makes Clarke smile every time she sees it. (Lexa’s taken to calling him ‘Belly’ when he has his glasses on in a sickening sweet baby voice, and the poor boy has given up on trying to fight her on it.) The curly haired boy pores over a History textbook, eyes darting from the book to the study guide on the ground next to him. Not that he needs it, Clarke knows - the kid’s the biggest history nerd she’s ever met in her life. 

Raven’s playing absently with Octavia’s dark, messy hair, grinning as the younger of the two’s eyes fall shut in content. Clarke pauses for a moment, wondering if the intimate act of affection is anything of note, but decides not to think about it. Her brain is already fried from trying to study for all of these finals, and dissecting the potential love life between her two best friends is not something she thinks she’s capable of. 

On the couch that they lean on, Jasper and Monty are lying with their heads and feet on opposite ends, both miraculously working on math despite the lack of a stable surface to write on. Clarke nearly chuckles; if anyone can manage to make any circumstance work, it’s the two of them. Jasper chews on the end of his pencil, brow furrowed as he reads over a problem that Monty is already whizzing through. The only sound in the room at that moment is the scratch of graphite against notebook paper.

“Sorry, you’re breaking up,” Raven says, not even looking up. Clarke is pulled from her observation at the sudden answer to Lexa’s question, and she snorts. “Must be bad signal up there.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have gone to the moon to study,” Lexa deadpans, sighing. She leans back against the other end of the L-shaped couch, and Clarke looks up to see the brunette’s eyes falling shut in defeat.

The blonde decides to take pity on her girlfriend and takes the high road. She sits up, then gathers the mess of notes discarded on the floor. She silently pushes them back into Lexa’s hands.

“Are you through with being a baby?” the brunette quips as she sits back up. Jasper lets out a single “ha!” of amusement at the witty remark, and it’s all Clarke can do not to roll her eyes.  _ High road,  _ she reminds herself.

“Yes, I’m done whining. Teach me things.”

Now, Lexa’s grinning as she sorts through the papers, putting them back in order. However, as soon as the papers are organized, she puts them back in her bag. Clarke raises an eyebrow, confused at how she’s supposed to learn anything without the notes.

“Oktevia kom Arkadia,” the brunette says, directing her attention to the girl still half asleep in Raven’s lap. Both of the two look up. 

“Sha?”

“Tich Klark op, beja.”

Octavia sighs. “Haukom?”

“Kos ai biyo.”

Clarke snorts. Trigedasleng, a rare and interesting language from centuries ago that derived itself from English, is a beautiful and complex language for the most part. To hear such a mundane, childish conversation is humorously ironic.

“See? She understands,” Monty says, rolling over enough to look at Clarke. “When she wants to, anyway.”

“Thanks, Monty,” Clarke replies, her eyes lidded in unamusement. The shaggy haired boy grins in return and focuses back on his math work.

“So what finals are you most worried about?” Raven asks, distracting the conversation away from Clarke. The blonde silently thanks her, then settles herself back in Lexa’s lap. She turns on her side so that she can see her friends, and Lexa keeps her hair pulled out of her face. A gentle thumb brushes against her cheek, making it hard to breathe for a second because of how intimate it is. 

“It’s not that I’m necessarily worried about anything,” Bellamy says. “But my brain is dead. I’ve been reading the same paragraph for five minutes now.”

Murmurs of agreement scatter around the room, and Clarke nods, her chin bumping awkwardly into Lexa’s kneecap. 

“Two more days, y’all,” Raven assures, her eyes falling shut. She leans back against Monty’s arm, which is the closest thing to a pillow, and he doesn’t seem to mind. He reaches over with his free hand and pats her head, eliciting a chuckle from the brunette.

“Two more days and we’re burning all our homework and drinking the pain away,” Bellamy agrees. Clarke grins, and she can feel Lexa’s body shake slightly with laughter. 

“What time is it?” Jasper asks, closing his book with a loud crack. Monty jumps, then proceeds to glare at his best friend as he closes his book gently, like a normal person. Bellamy follows suit and places his book, as well as Monty’s and Jasper’s, on the floor next to him. Clarke groans internally at the height of the stack, more appropriately deemed a tower.

“6:22,” Clarke says as she peers down at her father’s watch, which is wrapped tight around her wrist as usual. She takes it off only when she has to, and she can’t imagine a day where that isn’t true. Her eyes linger on the silver hands ticking by for a moment longer.

“Mom’s going to want us home soon,” Bellamy says, sliding his book carefully from under the other boys’. He slips the book into his bag and stands, stretching his limbs as much as he can as his face contorts with the ache. Octavia groans and rolls her head to the side, hiding in Raven’s lap. The older brunette’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink, but it doesn’t get past Clarke. 

_ Definitely something to look into,  _ she thinks. 

It takes about ten more minutes, but finally, everyone is convinced to get up and head home, despite complaints of “I’m too tired” and “it’s so far.” For a group of people overly concerned about their fitness, never known to miss a workout, they sure can be lazy. Clarke is certainly no exception as she forces everyone to lean down to give her a hug (and they better not leave without giving her a damn hug.) Soon, it’s just her and Lexa left in the house.

“Is anyone going to be at your house tonight?” Clarke asks. Last she knew Gustus was on a business trip, but she couldn’t remember if Lexa had mentioned anything about Anya being out.

“Not until the middle of the morning, no. Anya’s best friend just got back from school, so they’re not going to be home until the sun rises,” Lexa says, a small grin forming on her face. Suddenly, she reaches her arms beneath Clarke’s shoulders and knees and hoists the girl up, eliciting a surprised squeal. The brunette carries her like she weighs nothing and they head toward the kitchen, Clarke giggling and Lexa holding a proud smile the whole way there.

They walk in with what could either be considered perfect or terrible timing, for Abby walks in at the same time through the kitchen door. Lexa and Clarke freeze, their smiles immediately falling off their faces.

Abby pauses only for a moment before a wide grin spreads across her cheeks as she sets her bags down on the island counter. Clarke carefully scrambles out of Lexa’s arms and stands, her knees slightly wobbly from the lack of use for so long. Lexa stretches out her arms subtly.

“You two look like you saw a ghost,” Abby says, looking into the refrigerator. Her voice is slightly muffled as she leans forward to search through the shelves.

“You - I -”

“Have nothing to worry about,” Abby says. Clarke sees Lexa’s shoulders relax, having previously been creeping continuously up to her ears.

“Actually, that’s not true.”

Clarke’s heart flutters in nervousness. Oh no.

“I do have a very serious question for the both of you,” Abby says, her tone and expression suddenly stern. She closes the refrigerator door and walks over to the two of them, and Clarke tries her hardest not to let her eyes widen.

“Yes?” Lexa practically squeaks, and any other time, Clarke would be chiding her for the hilarious response. Now, however, her throat is dry as she waits to see what her mother wants to ask.

“What do you want for dinner?”

Clarke’s knees almost buckle under her, and she grabs hold of the counter to keep steady. Lexa grins as a sigh of relief slips past her lips, her head falling forward.

“Mom, that was mean,” Clarke mutters, stepping forward into her mother’s outstretched arm. Abby chuckles, then slowly release Clarke as she heads toward the cabinets.

“Are you staying, Lexa?” she asks, hunting through a few cans of vegetables. She settles on honey-glazed carrots and closes the cabinet.

“Would that be alright?” Lexa asks in return as she leans forward on her elbows, resting them on the island. The muscles in her arms stick out in all the right ways, and Clarke takes a moment to appreciate her girlfriend’s admirable physique. She tries not to let self consciousness creep in, and she runs her hands over her own building muscles to fend it off. 

“You’re both 18, almost seniors. If Gustus doesn’t mind, you’re welcome here anytime,” Abby says. Lexa grins and immediately pulls out her phone to contact her father. Clarke looks up and mouths a thank you to her mother, who winks in return as she turns on the stove.

\--

Dinner at the Griffin house typically goes one of two ways. The first of which is a dinner spent at the table, placemats, fancy silverware and all. These dinners usually take place on weekends or nights where Abby gets to come home earlier than usual. The second type of dinner is the most common, and neither of them seem to mind. It’s a second method kind of night, meaning TV trays and TV shows in the living room until well after the food is done.

As the newest episode of Chopped comes to a close, an hour after they finished eating, Clarke feels tiredness from the day starting to creep back in. As Lexa settles back into the couch, the blonde catches her eyes drooping as she struggles to stay awake. Abby seems to notice, too, and a small, motherly smile plays at her lips as she carefully takes Lexa’s plate out of her hands.

“Oh, Abby, I can…” she attempts, blinking rapidly to try to wake herself up. Clarke melts inside at the sight. Abby shushes Lexa, and the brunette is too tired to protest. As Clarke hands her plate to her mother, then instinctively leans her cheek upward. She’s met with their usual goodnight kiss, and she grins as she meets her mother’s eyes.

“Goodnight, girls. See you in the morning,” she says. Clarke’s eyes drift upward to the red digital numbers on the TV box, and she almost laughs in spite of herself as she sees that it’s just now turning 8:30. 

She and Lexa mumble a somewhat coherent goodnight in response as they trudge tiredly up the stairs to Clarke’s room, only stopping to grab the overnight bag that the two of them had walked to Lexa’s house to get while dinner was being made. When they get upstairs, Clarke doesn’t even bother flipping on the light as she takes their phones and sets them on the nightstand to charge. They silently tug off clothes and search for pajamas, already too tired to even think of staying up much later. Clarke settles on her favorite pair of space pajamas, and as Lexa stands in the light of the window, the blonde grins as she realizes they’re matching. She waits for the brunette to grab for a pair of shorts or something to pull on with her tanktop, but she never does.

“Is this okay?” she asks, gesturing to the boxers. Clarke smiles and nods, deciding they’re far past niceties. She pauses for a moment, then places the pajama bottoms in her hand back in the drawer. She’s left in a pair of boyshorts that wrap slightly around her thighs, and she decides that they’re close enough to pants.

Clarke climbs into her bed first, throwing the covers back on the other side of it to allow Lexa to slip in. The bed sits against the wall, and pillows line the hard surface to keep Clarke from kicking it. She’s made that mistake far too many times, and she doesn’t want to make it again. The sheets are blue and white checkered, but the comforter is just a solid navy blue. Clarke spreads the two pillows she typically rests on into one long line of pillow, then pats the empty side of the bed. Just being on the soft mattress is already enough to make her eyes droop even further.

Lexa follows hesitantly, her nervousness evident in the careful apprehension of her movements. Clarke rolls her eyes and pulls the brunette in suddenly, causing her to gasp in surprise. 

When Clarke instinctively wraps her legs around Lexa and buries her face in the brunette’s neck, she’s relieved to feel the way her girlfriend’s muscles relax. A breath of warm air sends shivers down the blonde’s spine, and she burrows closer to Lexa in attempt to hide it.

“We’re such losers,” Lexa says as Clarke feels her fingers tangle in her hair. She’s far too tired to protest how comforting the sensation is, and the blonde lets her eyes fall shut.

“I know. Going to bed at 8:30. Ridiculous, really,” she mutters, and she feels Lexa grin against her forehead. Gentle lips press themselves to her skin. In response, Clarke traces patterns absently on Lexa’s back. She resists the temptation to slide her hand under the brunette’s shirt and press her fingers against her skin.

“Reshop, Klark.”

“Goodnight, Lexa.”

\--

Clarke notices two things immediately upon waking up. 

One. It’s far too early to be awake, but she doesn’t exactly feel tired for once.

Two. something is pressing against her thigh.

Clarke’s eyes flutter open, but the action does no use. The only light coming into the room is still that of the moon streaming in through the window. Otherwise, the room is completely dark save for the digital numbers on the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand.

4:30. Again, way too early to be awake.

The blonde shifts carefully, trying hard not to wake the still asleep brunette she’s wrapped around. Every movement makes her wince. Not moving your body for somewhere around six hours straight does not make for a comfortable morning, but still, she doesn’t mind. Having her girlfriend sleeping in her arms makes it worth the ache.

And God, does it. The first time she slept next to Lexa, Clarke only woke after the brunette was tearing down the hall. Now, however, she gets the opportunity to really see the sleeping girl. She looks angelic. Her features are completely relaxed. Her hair is an absolute mess, but to Clarke, it’s at its best. The natural wave seems to come out when she sleeps on it, and the blonde can’t help but wish it would stay throughout the day, too. Arms stay wrapped around her body, and Clarke can’t be sure, but she thinks Lexa’s hands are intertwined behind her back to keep from letting go in her sleep. She is so beautiful that Clarke almost forgets to breathe.

Instead, when she remembers the importance of oxygen, she leans down without thinking and kisses Lexa’s forehead. This proves to be a blessing and a curse. The blessing is how precious Lexa is when she wakes and stretches her body, making little whimpering sounds as she works out the kinks. The curse is when she realizes the weight against Clarke’s thigh and tries to spring out of Clarke’s grasp.

“I am so sorry, this -” she mutters, still struggling against Clarke’s hold. The blonde does not let up, however, and uses her free hand to quickly pull Lexa’s chin up. They meet eyes, and it hurts Clarke’s heart to see the panic in the emerald orbs she’s staring into.

“Lexa, breathe.”

The brunette does just that. Her eyes fall shut and she takes as deep a breath as she can. When she exhales, the tension in her body releases, and she falls slack against Clarke. The blonde takes advantage of the moment and draws Lexa closer before the brunette can protest.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters into Clarke’s neck. Clarke shakes her head gently as her hands run the length of Lexa’s back, slowly and comfortingly. “This doesn’t happen often anymore, but of course it would now.”

“Lex, you’re human. Okay? It’s okay,” Clarke whispers. She brushes her cheek against Lexa’s forehead as she tries to hold the girl closer. Lexa sighs, following suit.

There’s a few moments of a slightly awkward silence between the two of them before a question pops into Clarke’s mind.

“What do you...usually do about it? Does it just go away?” she asks. She stutters and stumbles over the words, afraid to get too personal or ask the wrong thing. Lexa must sense this, for she places a kiss to the sensitive spot on Clarke’s neck. That shuts her up.

“It doesn’t usually go away on its own, no.”

Her reaction is instant. A deep blush breaks out starting at her cheeks, then her ears, and then all the way down her neck. Her heart flutters repeatedly as the words continue to sink in, and she shouldn’t, she knows she shouldn’t, but she feels something tighten at the bottom of her stomach.

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing,” Lexa mutters, and she’s actually laughing. Clarke can feel the brunette’s cheeks pushing outward against her neck, and her laughter comes out as short, hot breaths of air that leave goosebumps on the blonde’s suddenly warm skin. Hearing Lexa laugh as opposed to panic causes a flood of relief to wash over Clarke. She allows herself a small chuckle, too, as she scoots herself down slightly to be eye to eye with Lexa.

“Shush,” she says, pressing her lips to Lexa’s in a chaste kiss. “I promise, it’s okay.”

Lexa grins, then leans up to kiss Clarke back. She misses at first, her lips ending up on the underside of the blonde’s chin, but they eventually find their way up to her lips. The kiss is not as short as Clarke’s, and the blonde finds herself reluctant to pull away.

She should, she really should, but she doesn’t.

Before either of them realize it, the kiss deepens. It starts simple; Clarke pulls more of the brunette’s bottom lip into her mouth, and pulls back only to breathe and reconnect their lips. Then, it’s not quite enough. Clarke’s tongue slides along Lexa’s, asking for entrance. Lexa gives it to her without a moment’s hesitation, her lips parting to allow Clarke inside.

Clarke’s heart pounds in her chest as her hands run up Lexa’s back, slowly and thoughtfully. Her fingers trace over the brunette’s spine, and when their tongues finally connect, Clarke feels like the air is sucked out of her lungs. Lexa freezes and immediately pulls backward, leaving the blonde missing the contact.

“Are you - is this okay?”

Clarke doesn’t respond. Instead, she surges forward with renewed energy and connects their lips once again. This seems to be enough for consent to Lexa, whose hands are trailing up Clarke’s back and into her hair. Her fingers brush over a particularly sensitive spot, and the blonde bites down accidentally on Lexa’s lip. However, the brunette practically melts into Clarke. She tries it again, and gets the same result.  _ Good,  _ Clarke thinks devilishly.

As their kisses continue to heat up, it’s suddenly not just their hands that are moving. Clarke can’t help the way her breath hitches as Lexa’s hips jerk upward, her thigh rubbing against the outside of her boyshorts. At the same time, the bulge pressing against the brunette’s boxers rubs down against Clarke’s thigh, and a beautiful mix of a moan and a whimper erupts from Lexa’s throat. 

The sound makes Clarke have to hold back a pleased moan from her own throat, but she can't stop the rush of heat between her legs at the sound. It pushes her onward, and she tentatively grinds down again, her fingers wrapping automatically around Lexa’s shoulders. Searching hips rock upward, seeking friction. Clarke leans down and presses her lips to Lexa’s in order to quiet them both. She swings her leg over Lexa’s, and she almost falls apart when she feels the brunette’s hardened length pressing against her center. 

“Is this helping?” she whispers when she pulls away, her breath hitching as Lexa rocks upward, her member pressing against Clarke’s most sensitive spot. A familiar tightness is already building in the shaky girl’s stomach, but she's determined to hold it off.

“A little too much,” Lexa replies with a shuddering laugh. Their movements slow, only slightly, and Clarke captures the girl’s lips in a deep kiss that leaves her reeling. When she pulls back, her teeth graze the brunette’s bottom lip. Lexa lets out a sigh at the sensation, her hands tightening their grip on Clarke’s back.

Though the slow of their movements is slight, it still leaves the blonde aching. Her hips rut downward with a bit more force, now, eliciting whimpers from the both of them. Clarke curls her fingers in Lexa’s tank, needing something to hold onto lest she fall over that edge she so desperately needs.

Another particularly hard thrust has Lexa’s hips rising up off the bed with a quick intake of breath. The sound alone has Clarke pooling, but she reigns in her own arousal to check on the brunette beneath her.

“You good?” she whispers. She continues to slide slowly up and down the brunette's length, and the pressure is getting to be too much. She lets her body fall forward so that her head is resting on Lexa’s shoulder. This doesn't prove to help her situation, however, for the brunette is making glorious sounds directly into Clarke’s ear.

“Is it okay if…” Lexa attempts, cut off by a moan. The bulge pressed against Clarke’s center is growing harder and harder, and the sensation makes the blonde’s walls flutter.

“Me too,” she admits, a suddenly faster pace picking up between them. Clarke groans, then buries her face in Lexa’s neck. Arms tighten around her shoulders as fingers curl in her shirt, pulling her impossibly closer.

It only takes a few seconds more before Lexa lets out a hushed whimper, muffled as she purses her lips shut, and the member between her legs goes stiff. Her hips rut jerkily upward a few more times as her muscles tighten entirely. As she reaches the height of her peak, she lets out a deep, throaty moan, and Clarke is done for. She grabs hold of Lexa’s shirt even tighter than before as her walls clench and flutter over and over, wetness soaking through her underwear. 

When they both settle from their highs, they slump against the bed, exhausted. Clarke doesn't bother to get off of Lexa, despite how uncomfortable the stickiness in her underwear feels. Lexa’s grip slackens momentarily, only to be reinstated as she holds Clarke close again. Her head turns, and lips press against the blonde’s damp forehead. Clarke's eyes feel impossibly heavy, and she lets them fall shut as the effects of the high settle over her.

“Well that was…something,” Lexa says, a slight chuckle to her voice. Clarke can only grin against her neck.

“Definitely worth being awake at 4:30 in the morning,” she replies. Her voice even sounds sleepier.

“Hey, um…” Lexa begins, her voice suddenly hushed. Clarke nearly pulls back, but Lexa reaches up to play with her blonde locks and she can't protest against that.

“Thank you, for that. You… You make me feel normal.”

“You are normal, Lexa.”

There's a long pause before the brunette speaks again, and though Clarke knows they're going to fall back asleep and potentially be late, she can't find it in her to care.

“Ai hod yu in, Klark.”

The words are more than Clarke would have ever hoped for so soon, but she's grateful. Because she feels the same. From the moment she laid eyes on Lexa in that locker room, there was something there. She had this need, this desire to care for her, protect her, empower her. She wanted to be everything for her, because she loved her. Clarke  _ loves  _ her.

“I love you, too, Lexa.”

“See? You do know what you're talking about.”

Clarke snorts. Of course her girlfriend would have a witty remark to make the intensity of the moment easier.

“Remind me to never help you again,” she mutters, her voice muffled against Lexa’s neck. She isn't awake long enough to hear a reply, but she's fairly certain she can feel Lexa smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback/advice is much appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

_ Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. _

“I swear, if that clock goes any slower, I’m going to shoot somebody,” Raven mutters under her breath from her seat next to Clarke. The blonde grins, though her own foot is bouncing impatiently as she stares at the clock. Two minutes. Two minutes and they don’t have to step foot in this school for another two months. People are already lining up at the door, but Clarke doesn’t feel like getting trapped in that crowd. So, she and Raven stay in their seats and wait for the final bell to ring.

“Hey, how do you think you did on that final?” Clarke asks, turning her head away from the clock. Raven sighs and places the last of her belongings in her bag, then looks up to meet Clarke’s eyes.

“I think I did fine. Math was never all that hard anyway,” she says, a small smirk playing at her lips. Clarke rolls her eyes, because of course Raven would think that Pre Calculus is easy. The girl is a math whiz, no doubt.

Finally, the beloved final bell rings, and cheers erupt in the room. Mr. Pike sits at his desk, grading the finals he was just handed, and Clarke catches him grinning down at the papers as he shakes his head. Difficult as he may be, Clarke knows that there’s a side of him that’s not half bad. She considers saying goodbye to him, but before she can think, she’s being dragged by Raven out of the classroom.

She doesn’t stop getting dragged until they’re out of that godforsaken school, then Raven’s grip slackens. She breathes in deeply, her eyes falling shut as a content smile graces her lips.

“You know what this means,” she says, her eyes still closed. Though people bustle past them, the two of them stay well rooted in the center of the walkway outside. Clarke considers dragging the brunette out of the way, but someone shows up to do that before she has a chance. 

Well, some _ ones,  _ Clarke realizes as a familiar hand grips her own wrist.

“What it means is that you’re that asshole standing in the middle of the walkway when we could be on the way home right now,” Octavia says to a sheepishly grinning Raven. The hand wrapped around Clarke’s wrist loosens slightly, then tightens as the blonde is whipped around to face her captor. Lexa grins back at her, hair disheveled and eyes tired from a day of final exams, and Clarke still thinks it's one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen.

“I think we deserve a drink,” Octavia sighs as they make their way through the crowd. A few rows of cars down, Clarke can see Bellamy leaning against the Jeep, watching Octavia’s motorcycle to ensure that it doesn’t get damaged by bolting students. His cap and gown is in a package in his hand, and the sight makes Clarke’s heart ache. Still, she refuses to give the thought the time of day and focuses instead at the wonderful evening soon to come.

After some skillful positioning and clamoring into the small Jeep, lessened only by Raven agreeing to ride with Octavia, they’re off. Clarke decides that she’s never riding with Octavia again if it means getting to sit in Lexa’s lap all the time. As Bellamy takes off and heads home, the blonde leans back into Lexa’s arms, reveling in the comfortable security of her grip around her. Lexa subtly presses her lips to Clarke’s shoulder, exposed by her Batman tank top, and the action is so sweet and gentle that Clarke nearly melts on the spot.

Jasper leans over the back of the back of the seat and peers into the trunk space behind them. His eyes widen and a wicked smile reaches his lips, and Clarke grins. She can only guess what he’s found.

“That enough for a school’s out party or no?” Bellamy teases, looking up in the rearview mirror. He and Clarke meet eyes for a second, and both of them break out into a grin. Clarke mouths something about him being a little shit, and the curly haired boy simply winks in return. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Jasper replies finally, twisting around so that he can sit normally in his seat. Monty grins at his best friend.

\--

Surprisingly enough, they don’t break into alcohol OR food until later in the evening, likely somewhere around six. The first half of the evening is spent in the front driveway, a rather large one. Bellamy found his old basketball hoop holed away in pieces in the attic, and the group plays basketball for a solid three hours. The range of skill in the group is actually quite amusing.

Monty and Jasper are easily at the bottom. They can hardly dribble and run at the same time, let alone make a basket. Every shot that Monty takes flies over the back of the hoop or barely touches the bottom of the net, and there’s quite literally no inbetween. Clarke would think that someone as skilled in physics and math as he would understand angles a bit better, but clearly, this is one application of his skills he simply doesn’t excel at. Jasper is as uncoordinated as it gets and has to look down at the ball to keep it dribbling, but he doesn’t care one bit. Clarke grins as she realizes that he is the definition of someone who is simply happy to be there.

Clarke and Octavia are the next level up. They can dribble and run, no problem, and they can make a basket - with proper preparation, of course. Clarke prides herself on the fact that in her small team of three versus the team of four, she is the one who makes a majority of the shots. However, despite her grand contribution, it is nothing compared to the abilities of the team of four (save for Octavia.)

Bellamy, Lexa, and Raven are easily the best players of the group. Bellamy’s reason is obvious; he has played basketball with the school for years now, and simply normally goes to the park to practice. Raven and Lexa are not so obvious, however. Neither of them have ever played on a team before, but still, they master it. Lexa even keeps up with Bellamy’s fancy tricks, like dribbling between his legs, and even gets past him to make a layup once using a logic trick to throw the boy off. 

Perhaps the most amusing part of the game, however, is not the game itself, nor the players necessarily. At least, not all of them. 

Clarke stares almost unabashedly at Lexa as she moves effortlessly around the driveway. Her eyes trace the beads of sweat trickling down the brunette’s face, the veins in her neck that pop out, the way her muscles bulge as she moves. She’s only caught once, and when she’s met with knowing emerald eyes that hold a teasing glint, Clarke’s mouth goes completely dry. 

Even more amusing, she thinks, is the way Octavia and Raven are doing quite the same thing to each other. Clarke catches them both staring, and she has to stifle her laughter when she sees Octavia’s mouth literally hanging open slightly. She can’t say she blames the younger brunette, though; Raven is hanging from the rim, and the muscles in her arms are pushed out much like Lexa’s had been. Even Clarke can’t deny how attractive it is, but she’s got eyes for only one. 

That one person aforementioned creeps up behind the blonde at that moment and snakes her arms around her waist. Clarke nearly lets out a yelp of surprise, but one glance at those long, slender fingers reveals who has captured her so. Her moment of panic dissipates into a warm sensation in her chest as she leans backward slightly.

“Hungry, love?”

If Clarke wasn’t melting already, she certainly is now at the term of endearment. “A little thirsty, too.”

Lexa chuckles, sending vibrations into Clarke’s shoulder. “If anyone’s thirsty, I think it’s O and Raven. Someone needs to spray them with cold water.”

“We could just toss them into the pool,” Clarke offers as Lexa lets go of her hold around her waist. The girl instead opts to hold Clarke’s open hand, intertwining their fingers together as they head inside the house. Clarke is suddenly aware of the grossness of the both of them, sweat making their clothing cling to their bodies uncomfortably.

“I think we could all use that,” she mutters, groaning internally as each step reveals a new place where clothes are sticking to her. Lexa snorts, and Clarke raises an eyebrow in inquiry.

“Yeah, you did look a little thirsty, too.”

It takes all Clarke has not to smile as she jabs her girlfriend in the side with her elbow as they step inside the house.

\--

They actually do end up jumping into the pool, literally only for a moment, and the effect is instantaneous. Though it certainly isn’t the equivalent of a shower, Clarke feels much better with all of the sweat on her skin being washed away. Knowing that they’ll like get back into the pool, they leave their bathing suits on when they head back inside to break out the food and ever beloved drinks.

Every Blake house party goes the same way. Aurora goes out with some friends every Friday night, leaving the house completely empty until the next afternoon. The night consists of eating the same surprisingly healthy dinner every time (lean meat, baked fries, etc), the same drinks, swimming in the pool, and sometimes talking before going to bed. Whether that last part happens or not depends on how tired or drunk they all end up. 

This evening is no different. They eat little by little throughout the night, spacing it out with their drinks to try to prevent the nearly inevitable hangovers the next morning. Clarke tries to eat something and drink a glass of water between every drink, but the later the night gets, the worse she gets at following that code. Lexa does her best to remind her, but the brunette isn’t following that code so well, either. The two of them have their very fair share of Green Apple and Watermelon Smirnoff Ices, and even then, they’re on the lighter side of the drinking for the evening.

They’re only in the pool for about an hour, considering that they don’t get in until later in the night. They play Chicken, as usual, and Bellamy racks up the most points. They stay wary of their intoxication levels, and for the last fifteen minutes, they stay in the shallow end of the pool to maintain their safety.

The summer air is still rather cool when darkness falls. Though resting at the edges of the pool and staring up at the stars is peaceful and intoxicating in its own way, the lowering temperatures along with increasing inebriation drive the group inside somewhere around ten. 

The first order of business is getting changed into clean, dry clothing. Bellamy mutters something about not getting his damn carpet wet, but no one seems to hear them. They stumble down the hall toward the siblings’ bedrooms, where all of the overnight bags are stored. Clarke has to keep her hand on the wall as she walks to maintain her balance. In the back of her mind, there’s a part of her that knows the next morning isn’t going to be much fun. She’s too drunk off the liquor and the life of the people around her, however, to find it in her to care.

They change mostly in silence, facing away from each other to keep a little bit of modesty. It isn’t like Clarke has not seen her best friends’ bodies before - when you grow up with people from the time you’re just a child, you find a level of comfort with them that makes the embarrassment of nudity seem nonexistent. However, with Lexa in the group now, Clarke thinks there’s some unspoken agreement that they don’t want to make the brunette uncomfortable.

Despite her inebriated state, Clarke gets dressed fairly successfully. She has no trouble with her underwear or shorts, and she doesn’t even bother with socks. Her sports bra takes a little bit more effort than usual, but still, she manages it. It isn’t until her tank top that she struggles.

After about thirty seconds of trying to weasel her right arm and head out of the same hole, a feat that even Clarke isn’t sure how she accomplished, she finally lets out a sigh of frustration and accepts her defeat.

“Lexa, I’m stuck,” she admits, her words sounding slurred so that the ‘x’ in Lexa sounds more like an ‘s’ than anything. Everyone in the room is decently covered, wearing at least a bra and underwear, and they turn to see what Clarke is talking about. Octavia begins giggling quietly, a sound that Clarke only hears when she’s drunk, and Raven snorts in amusement at the both of them.

Lexa walks somewhat unsteadily over to Clarke and grins lazily as she pulls the white tank over Clarke’s head, then forces the blonde to put her arms up. Clarke complies without much protest at being treated like a child, and Lexa pulls the shirt over her torso much more smoothly than she had done herself. 

“Better?” the brunette asks, reaching for her own tank top. She pulls it over her head effortlessly and raises an eyebrow at Clarke. The blonde nods and grins at her girlfriend contentedly.

Once they’re all dressed, the four girls head back to the living room to find blankets and pillows scattered in no arranged fashion. In fact, it looks as though the boys pulled them into the living room, threw them down, and called it good. Clarke chuckles at their drunk definition of organization.

Bellamy and Monty have grabbed a blanket and a pillow and actually lain down like normal people. Their eyes are open, but just barely. 

Jasper, however, is sprawled across the floor, a pillow under the arch of his back and a blanket pulled across just his shins. His eyes are closed, and as she turns of the living room light, Clarke wonders if the boy is even awake.

“Comfortable, Jas?” Octavia asks, voicing Clarke’s thoughts. The four girls manage to make a couple of makeshift beds and settle themselves down. Clarke notices that both she and Lexa as well as Octavia and Raven have decided, without discussion, that they would sort of share their ‘beds’ instead of sleeping with individual blankets.

“Too drunk, can’t hear you,” Jasper mutters. Clarke throws an arm and leg across Lexa’s body, and strong arms immediately wrap around her. She lets out a giggle against the brunette’s skin at Jasper’s words.

“Happy summer vacation,” Bellamy says. His voice is raspy and scratchy. It’ll be a miracle if he even has a voice at all when the morning comes. “We made it.”

“‘Cause of you,” Raven says. Her words aren’t necessarily slurred, but they’re slow, as though she has to think of each word before she says it. With the amount of alcohol that girl consumed, Clarke decides that her assumption likely isn’t all that out of reach.

“What’d I do?” Bellamy asks. Clarke’s eyes fall closed as she buries her face in Lexa’s neck. The brunette’s breathing is slowed, but not enough for her to be asleep. Clarke knows that Lexa isn’t asleep when she feels her smiling.

“Not just you, dummy,” Raven quips back. “All of you. We’re kinda wrecks, yknow.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jasper practically groans. Little giggles erupt through the room, and it’s like music to Clarke’s ears. She knows she won’t be awake for much longer, but she needs to stay awake for this.

“Think we’d fall apart without each other,” Raven finishes. The mood shifts from one of humor to a content adoration for the people in the room, and Clarke’s heart feels heavy in the best of ways. 

“We’re like...reaaaally sticky duct tape,” Lexa contributes. Clarke snorts. While the brunette is of a truly magnificent mind when sober, her intoxicated thoughts will never fail to amuse the blonde.

“Okay, Lexa. Okay,” Octavia chuckles. Clarke grins.

They’re almost asleep when Monty whispers something, barely audible to someone who isn’t listening.

“Thank you.”

Clarke barely gets the same words out of her own mouth before sleep pulls her in, and she succumbs to the exhaustion.

\--

When she wakes the next morning, her fears from the previous night have been confirmed. A pounding headache is what pulls her out of her peaceful slumber. Light shines in through the patio door’s glass pane, and the blonde lets out an audible groan as she buries her face even further into Lexa’s neck. Upon a moment’s inspection, she realizes that they’ve not moved an inch since they laid down several hours ago.

Clarke’s groan causes Lexa to stir, and the blonde mentally kicks herself. She should have been quiet so as not to wake the sleeping girl who is very much able to feel every movement she makes. Apparently, the vibrations of her groan against Lexa’s collarbone was enough to wake the light sleeper.

“You okay?” Lexa whispers sleepily. Her voice is deeper again, the way that it was the first time they stayed the night here, and Clarke wants to smile. A brush of the blonde’s forehead against her girlfriend’s chin reveals the same stubble, too. She wonders how long it will take Lexa to realize and freak out, but decides not to bring it up. To Clarke’s knowledge, no one else in the room is awake yet.

“I feel like death,” she admits. Even the action of talking makes her stomach churn uncomfortably, and she sighs. It’s going to be one of those mornings, try as she might to avoid it. “Are you?”

“My head hurts, but not too bad. I don’t think I’m going to hurl,” Lexa says. 

“That makes one of us,” Clarke mutters. “I’ll be back.”

She doesn’t realize until she gets to the bathroom and tries to shut the door that Lexa has followed. Her stomach is churning worse, now, and her mouth is starting to water. 

“Lex, don’t…” she tries. She swallows hard, and Lexa ignores her. Instead, the brunette simply shuts the door behind them quietly and helps Clarke to her knees in front of the toilet bowl. Clarke’s eyes burn as her heart begins to race. She doesn’t want Lexa to see her like this, and the thought genuinely makes her want to cry. Whether that’s from last night’s drunkenness carrying over or not, she doesn’t know, but she doesn’t care. All she knows is that for the first time, she wants Lexa to go away.

“You don’t need...to see this,” she says. Gentle fingers reach around her face and pull back strands of loose hair.

“Clarke, just shut up and puke. You’ll feel better after,” Lexa orders. Her words are stern, but her tone is soft and caring. 

Try as Clarke might, she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter as her stomach finally gives up its contents. It hurts, and her eyes burn, but Lexa’s right. As soon as the heaving stops, she feels instantly better. Her head still throbs, but the awful churn of her stomach is all but gone. 

She’s immediately met with a cold washcloth to her forehead, and Clarke sighs with relief. She takes the cloth from Lexa and reaches up to flush and close the toilet, then sits on the toilet seat. She leans backward and closes her eyes, letting the cool washcloth rest on her forehead. She doesn’t even flinch when soft tissue wipes across her lips and chin and a paper cup is pressed to her lips. She simply sips down the cool water, relishing in the way it cools her burning throat, and waits for her body to calm down.

“Well, I guess I don’t mind being single for the rest of my life,” Clarke mutters after a few minutes of silence. Her voice is steadier now, and it doesn’t hurt to speak.

“Hush,” Lexa says, dismissing the blonde’s comment. “You feeling better?”

Clarke flashes a thumbs up, noting that her muscles don’t feel as shaky anymore.

“Good. I um...I think I need your help.”

Clarke takes the washcloth off of her forehead and sits up, finally opening her eyes. Lexa is leaning against the sink, her hands braced on its edge. She gives a small smile that Clarke can’t help but reciprocate. 

“What do you need?” the blonde asks. Lexa looks as though she’s about to say something, but her lips fall closed. She holds up a finger and quietly opens the door, then slinks out of it.

She returns a moment later with a box that Clarke immediately recognizes to be medicine. She pauses for a moment, confused, but the realization hits her.

“That’s your hormones, right?” Clarke asks tentatively. She doesn’t want to approach it insensitively, and she’s just about to kick herself for the outright question when Lexa nods. 

“How can I help?” the blonde inquires. Lexa hands her the hormones, then wrings her hands together for a moment before responding.

“My hands are kind of shaky. It happens sometimes when I drink too much. I, um...are your hands steady now?” Lexa asks. Her words come out in pieces, and her nervousness is evident. 

Clarke holds her hand up, and to her surprise, it’s steady. Her head still aches, but the rest of her body is in much better shape than it was when she woke ten minutes ago. Her eyes dart from her hand to Lexa’s, and the brunette has pulled her lip in nervously.

“Show me where,” Clarke requests. She reaches up and takes the brunette’s hand, her thumb running across the back of it slowly in comfort. Lexa swallows hard, but steadies herself. She points with her free hand to a spot in the middle of her thigh.

Clarke moves immediately. She stands, her head still hurting but her body otherwise fine, and flips the two of them so that Lexa is sitting on the toilet seat. Her hand rests on the brunette’s shorts, and she tugs on them gently, seeking consent. Lexa lifts her hips, her lips pursed and her eyes darting slightly. Clarke stops and sets the box on the ground gently, then carefully pulls herself onto Lexa’s lap. She wraps her arms around the brunette’s shoulders, and Lexa leans into Clarke’s chest without hesitation.

They sit that way for a few moments in silence, for no words need to be said. Finally, when Lexa shoulders rise and fall more slowly than they had before, Clarke pulls back.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispers, meeting Lexa’s gaze. She nods, and Clarke presses her lips to Lexa’s forehead before kneeling back down before her.

The brunette lifts her hips again, and this time, the two of them work together to pull the basketball shorts down and out of the way. Lexa seems prepared; rather than her long boxers, she’s simply wearing a pair of Captain America briefs. Clarke grins at the sight, then looks up to Lexa.

“This is an intramuscular injection, yes?” Clarke asks. Lexa looks taken aback for a moment, and Clarke fights the urge to roll her eyes.

“My mother is a doctor, Lex.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. That’s the one. Right there,” Lexa says, pointing to the same spot as earlier. Clarke nods and reaches into the box of hormones.

She goes through all of the steps; rubs alcohol on the injection point, makes sure that the dosage is proper and the needle is free of air, injects the needle at a perfect 90-degree angle (and uses her free hand to run her thumb across Lexa’s knee), checks to make sure she didn’t hit a blood vessel, injects the hormones, and quickly pulls the needle out. Lexa hisses quietly at the retraction, but settles when the alcohol pad replaces the sting with a familiar burn.

When Clarke is convinced enough time has passed, she removes the alcohol pad and helps pull Lexa’s shorts up and over her hips, then begins putting everything away.

“Do you discard these or keep them?” Clarke asks, standing at the sink with the needle.

“Always throw them out. Fresh one every time,” Lexa says. Her voice is hushed and slow, like she’s in a daze, and as Clarke tosses the needle into Octavia’s trash bin (she’ll explain to the younger girl later), she raises an eyebrow at her girlfriend.

“What, Lex?” she asks, approaching slowly. She stops and stands before Lexa, who’s still looking up at her like she put the stars in the sky. Her eyes are reverent and admiring as she takes the blonde’s hand gingerly, lips slightly parted.

“Lexa?”

“Thank you,” she whispers. Clarke smiles contentedly, that same warm sensation filling her chest. The throb in her head feels almost invisible as she leans down to rest on her heels. Lexa’s eyes follow her descent, then flit down to the blonde’s lips in a quick move. Clarke recognizes that look. She decides to give the brunette what she wants and leans upward, capturing the girl’s lips in a soft, passionate kiss that leaves her reeling.

When they pull away, Lexa sighs. Clarke’s legs begin to burn, so she settles all of her weight on her heels, now, and looks back up to the brunette still sitting above her.

“We should probably get out before someone else’s hangover kicks in,” she suggests, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lip. Though Clarke loves Lexa’s wide smile, the one that shows all of her teeth and makes her eyes shine a little bit brighter, this little side smile always makes her heart skip a beat. Clarke simply chuckles and nods, helping Lexa to her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in about two hours...I hope it was enjoyable! As always, if any part of this is inaccurate, please let me know so that I can fix it.
> 
> Also, a fair warning...the next chapter involves some triggers. I'll mention them at the beginning of the chapter, but I wanted to give a warning now just in case.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> self harm  
> blood  
> suicide mention
> 
> The purpose of this fic is to show that imperfect people can still love and be loved. it started with just Lexa, and while it will primarily serve to educate and explore the realm of Lexa being transgender, I also wanted to address other common issues that I don't see a lot of writing about. I believe this will be the only chapter at this level of intensity. If you can't read this chapter, I understand, and I will be posting another (much much lighter) one as soon as I can. Much love to everyone who has left kudos and comments, that feedback means more than you know!

“Clarke, baby, are you sure? I don’t want you to have to be alone tonight.”

Clarke sighs, sitting up from her place on the couch. She’s spent nearly the entire day curled up in the same spot watching football games that she’s seen half a million times. Her father’s watch has been strapped around her wrist almost too tightly, and his cologne is all over her favorite blanket. She’s wearing ratty grey sweats, an old, stained tanktop, and her hair looks a mess, but she doesn’t have it in her to care. All she wants to do is lie there and stare at the figures dancing across the television screen until she falls asleep, and she hopes that sleep comes soon.

Her mother has just been called in for an emergency at the hospital. They’d spent the whole day together, just watching the games and sleeping on and off while Abby made sure that Clarke still ate, and it had been nice. They’d been able to talk about him without crying for the first time, and it was a relief. Now, at 12:30 in the morning, Abby has to leave. Clarke doesn’t want her to, of course, but she waves her off anyways.

“I’m fine Mom, it’s okay,” she lies, pulling her blanket down from its place over her chin. She offers her mother a small smile to try to convince her, but even then, Abby doesn’t seem satisfied.

Satisfied or not, her pager is still going crazy, and it appears that the choice has been made.

Abby sighs and purses her lips in discontent, but knows she has to go. She leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead, and Clarke’s eyes fall shut. She feels a familiar lump rising in her throat, but swallows it down as quickly as it came to begin with. She glances upward to meet her mother’s eyes.

“I love you. Call someone if you need to, okay? I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“I love you too, Mom. Be safe.”

Abby nods, and with that, she’s off.

At the click of the door closing, Clarke sighs and settles deeper into the couch. An old Superbowl from when she was a toddler is playing on the screen. There’s fifteen minutes left with the fourth quarter just starting. As always, memories try to creep in, but Clarke pushes them back instantly. She knows that talking about him with her mother without crying was a one time thing, and thinking of him now, while she’s alone, will only lead to tears. She pushes the sound of his voice from her ears and watches each play intently, eyes darting back and forth about the screen to follow the ball.

The last Clarke remembers before she drifts to sleep is the way he cheered when his team scored a touchdown.

\--

She doesn’t stay asleep for long.

She sees him in her dreams. His shaggy brown hair, parted on the left side (his right, Clarke always had to remind herself), always falling over his forehead despite how hard he tried to keep it pushed back. His eyes, grey and blue and green all at once, sometimes alternating through those colors, loving and gentle even in times of hardship. His benign smile, nonjudgmental and caring no matter what the situation. His strong arms, always willing to hold Clarke in the best of times and the worst.

Some days, she can think of him and almost not miss him at all. Rather, she misses him, but it doesn’t hurt enough for her to really feel it. Some days, she misses him to the point of screaming and crying, sobbing so hard her lungs burn like the air has been ripped out of them. The second Clarke wakes up, she knows immediately what kind of morning this one will be.

“Daddy, I really need you,” she whispers to the nothingness as she sits up. She pulls the blanket with her and sits crosslegged on the couch, back leaning into the cushions behind her. The tears that she had fought so hard to keep at bay now well in her eyes, and that ever familiar lump is rising in her throat once again.

Of course, she is met only with silence and darkness. The television is off, now, as it was set to turn off after the last game had finished. The lack of any sort of stimulation to Clarke’s senses is eerie and uncomfortable.

“I know you can’t hear me,” she says, voice slightly louder now. It’s unsteady, and her throat feels tight. Her fingers curl into the blanket as she pulls it up over her shoulders. She needs something to hold onto, something to ground herself, and that’s simply not enough.

A thought pops into her mind that she has not thought of in two years. Clarke almost gasps out loud when she thinks it, but instead, her resolve shatters. 

The tears that she’s been holding back break free, streaming down her cheeks like rivers. Her body heaves with sobs that rip through her chest. Her lungs burn, like they’re on fire, and all she can think of is how he must have felt. How awful it must have been to die trying to breath in smoke and ashes, to suffocate among those flames. And alone, at that.

God, he was alone. He died alone.

“Daddy I’m so sorry,” Clarke cries. Her throat aches as another sob pushes its way up, coming out in a strangled whine that she hasn’t heard in so long. “I’m so s-sorry we left you there a-alone.”

She can’t sit still. She leaps up, lucky not to fall into the coffee table as she stumbles forward. She catches herself, but that doesn’t stop her limbs from feeling so shaky. Her legs tremble as she paces around the room, looking for something, anything, to focus on. She comes up empty. The room is pitch black save for the digital numbers on the television monitor. 

The darkness is too much. On wobbly legs, Clarke heads toward the hallway, her hand sliding along the wall to keep from running into anything. It’s still darker than Clarke can ever remember it being in the house, and it makes her shiver. She still can’t breathe.

Finally, she finds the bathroom and flips the dimmest light on. It illuminates the room without giving her a headache, and Lord knows she doesn’t need one. Her head is already throbbing with the way her body continues to heave sobs.

She really can’t breathe.

The blonde pulls at her clothes, fumbling with the strings on her sweatpants before finally pulling them off. It takes a few tries, but the rest of her clothes come off, too. Her breathing is shallow. Black patches start to come in around her eyes, and she knows she should sit. She should sit down, call Mom, call Gustus, call Lexa. She should be careful, but she isn’t. She turns the water on as hot as it will go and steps inside the shower, not even giving herself time to adjust to the heat.

She lets out a hiss as the steaming waterfall assaults her bare back, easily turning her skin red within seconds. It burns, stings, and Clarke wonders if this is what it feels like for a flame to touch skin.

It’s not enough, of course. She knows that. 

He died  _ alone. _

The thought repeats, like a cult-like mantra, through Clarke’s mind. Her breath is still quick and shallow, hardly giving her enough oxygen to stay conscious. The thud of her heart is furious within her chest, and she swears she can feel it in her throat. Dizziness begins to kick in, and despite her best efforts, she doesn’t manage to keep herself upright any longer. She falls, her body crumpling against the shower wall with a loud thunk that she knows will leave bruises later.

They said he fell down the stairs.

It still isn’t enough.

“You were so good,” Clarke says. Her voice is surprisingly steady, but slurred, as though she’s drunk. As the dizziness struggles to subside and her panic does nothing to lessen, the thoughts she’s tried so desperately to fight make their way in. “You didn’t deserve that pain. I wish I could have taken it away.”

Clarke’s eyes glance upward. Through blurred vision, something catches her attention. She knows it shouldn’t. There’s a lot of should’s and shouldnt’s, but they don’t register. She needs something to ground herself. Consciousness is fading quickly, and she hopes that maybe this will do the trick. And, after all, she did leave him there alone. They left him there alone. Someone’s got to take that burden.

In the back of her mind, something is telling Clarke that this isn’t right. But it’s not enough.

She vaguely registers the feeling of the soft plastic handle that she’s gripping onto. She hoists it from its place at the edge of the tub, steaming water still bearing down on her sensitive skin. It burns. It hurts. It’s the hottest temperature she’s ever felt, but she makes no move to lower it. Instead, the blonde’s focus is on the shiny silver strips, five of them, at the top of the plastic handle.

She starts with one. It’s shallow, but her breath hitches.

_ Come on Clarke, there’s still time. You can stop this. _

“No,” she whispers. The line she drew grows red, and a droplet falls down into the water. Exhausted blue eyes follow its passage from the middle of the tub to the drain, and then it is colorless once again. 

Not enough.

The second one, on her other arm, is deeper. It stings more, making Clarke hiss in pain. Her heart and breathing begin to slow down, an eerie calm settling over her. This time, a few more drops squeeze out, and the color red paints the shower floor once again.

Three. Four. Five. Six. S-

Clarke’s cellphone rings. It’s sitting on the toilet seat where she left it, and as she’s brought out of her trance, she shivers. She didn’t notice the way the water has begun to cool down. It soothes the sting left by the burning stream onto her back. 

Absently and carefully, Clarke pulls back the shower curtain and reaches for her phone. She doesn’t give herself time to look at the name before she picks up.

“Hello?”

“Clarke. Are you...are you okay? I just...I had a bad dream that something happened to you, and I know it’s probably just a dream, I just -”

The sensation of the air hitting her forearms, suddenly kicks in, and the pain is some of the worst Clarke’s ever felt. She can’t help but let out a yelp, then bites her lip as she realizes what she just did. Please don’t notice, please don’t notice, please don’t-

“Clarke?”

Shit.

The white rug placed just outside the shower is turning red much too fast for Clarke’s liking. The dizziness is coming back, now, and unconsciousness beckons to her. Finally, after minutes of being in a daze, reality kicks back in.

“Lexa, it’s bleeding really bad,” she whispers. Her eyes well with tears once again, a mix of fear, shame, and loneliness bubbling up in her chest. “I don’t know if I can stop it.”

“Clarke? What’s bleeding?” Lexa presses. There’s panic in her voice, now. Guilt immediately washes over Clarke. How could she be so stupid? After three years, how could she be so stupid?

“My… my arms. Lexa, I’m so sorry, I- it hurts so bad!”

Clarke breaks off into sobs, making her chest hurt once again. Her phone feels heavy in her grip, and her hand shakes as it tries to hold the object up to her ear. A steady stream of red is falling from her arms, now. 

“Where are you? What room are you in?” Lexa asks hurriedly. Clarke hears her pull the phone away from her ear and call down to Gustus, and the sound makes Clarke’s stomach lurch. What would he think of her, to find her this way?

In a last ditch attempt at decency, Clarke crawls out of the bathtub and grabs for her clothes, tugging them on over her wet skin carefully while she balances her phone between her shoulder and her cheek. Lexa is asking the same question over and over, each time getting more intense, but Clarke can hardly speak. She collapses against the wall between the bath and the toilet, her eyes falling shut. The phone is going to fall out of her hand at any moment now.

The last thing she remembers before she succumbs to the darkness seeking to take her in is the way her once white tank top looks awfully, frighteningly red.

\--

_ Beep. Beep. Beep. _

Clarke’s eyes flutter open at the sound of machinery working around her. The first thing she’s met with is a bright white light that seems to blind her, and her heart skips a beat. She couldn’t have been so stupid that she -

No. That isn’t the case. Her eyes adjust to the bright light, and she takes in the room around her. 

She’s in a hospital room. She can’t quite make out the numbers on the door, but she’s in the hospital where her mother works. The setup is the same as nearly every individual room; a large bed with white sheets in the center, a heart monitor and other machinery surrounding it, a bathroom, a small medicine center with loads of supplies, and various chairs and couches lining the walls. Clarke almost smiles as she realizes that they put her in her favorite room in the hospital; her own art project from a year ago, when she was offered a few hundred dollars to paint murals on every inch of wall she could cover. Her eyes glance over paintings of the stars and the moon, and a giant depiction of Earth on the wall right across from the bed.

It only takes a few moments for her to realize that she’s not alone. In fact, she’s as far from that as possible.

Lexa is tucked into the blonde’s side, her toned, tan arms wrapped as tightly around Clarke’s body as possible. Her head is buried in Clarke’s neck, and soft, steady breaths send warmth into the blonde’s slightly cold body. Their legs are intertwined beneath a baby blue blanket that’s been thrown over them both.

To Clarke’s right, she can see Bellamy, Octavia, and Raven resting on the bed, using the mattress as a pillow for themselves. Their hair is disheveled, and Clarke can see dark bags beneath their eyes. Still, despite that, they rest soundly against the bed. Her heart aches as she realizes what they must have gone through, getting called to the hospital in the early hours in the morning. Guilt washes over her like a tsunami, but she swallows it down to take in the rest of her surroundings. 

Jasper and Monty occupy the couch pressed against the wall to Clarke’s left. They’re both sitting upright with their arms crossed and their heads leaned back into the couch cushions. Jasper’s mouth hangs open slightly, and again, Clarke almost wants to smile.

Voices approach from down the hallway, and it takes only a second for Clarke to recognize them. They’re heading toward her room, she realizes, and her heart thuds in her chest. Almost comically, the heart monitor next to her begins to beep faster. She’s given no way to hide her nervousness as the door opens slowly, revealing that Clarke’s suspicions are correct.

Gustus slips into the room first, followed by Abby. Neither of the two notice that Clarke is awake until Abby moves to check the heart monitor. Her mom doesn’t even say a word before tears are welling up in Clarke’s eyes once again.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, trying desperately not to wake anyone else in the room. It proves to be of no luck, however, because the simple sound of her whisper is enough to wake everyone in the bed. Heads pop up slowly, and Lexa stirs from her place wrapped around Clarke.

“Clarke,” Octavia whispers. She leaps up from her spot right next to the blonde’s arm and gently pulls Clarke into a half-hug. She lets out a sigh of relief into the blonde’s ear, which only makes the tears in her eyes well more. Gentle lips press kisses to her collarbone as rough, calloused hands, one slightly softer than the other, find a place on her shin and hip. Octavia pulls back, and it’s then that she realizes that Jasper, Monty, Abby, and Gustus are surrounding her now, too.

The sight of everyone she holds dear huddling around her is almost too much, and she fights the urge to shut her eyes and block it all out. Her vision begins to blur, however, so she almost gets her wish.

“I don’t know what happened,” Clarke whispers, tears finally dripping over onto her cheeks. Her words come out as a strangled whine, and her heart breaks in two when she sees her own mother’s eyes begin to water, too. 

“Every doctor I’ve been talking to tonight is saying that you had a relapse, and I agree. Those can happen under stressful situations, baby. It’s not your fault,” Abby explains. Octavia and Raven scoot back so that the older woman can settle next to Clarke’s head. Her friends are still touching her somehow, each with a hand resting somewhere on her body while Lexa hangs onto her for dear life. The brunette is shaking slightly, which does nothing to help Clarke’s guilt.

“I don’t ever want to do that again. I promise, I…” she attempts, trying to explain herself and prove that she’s past it. Abby shushes her gently, making soothing sounds as she runs her fingers through her daughter’s tangled, matted locks.

“I know. I know. All we have to do is a few follow up sessions to make sure that this isn’t lasting, then everything will go back to normal,” she assures. Clarke sighs, then closes her eyes. Fresh tears spill down her cheeks, and she isn’t quite sure who it is that reaches up to wipe them away. She doesn’t suppose it matters, but the gentleness of the action makes her cringe a bit. After what she just did to these people, she doesn’t think she deserves their kindness. Lexa seems to notice the way she tenses, for again, loving lips press to the most sensitive spot on her collarbone.

“You’re stable. The blood loss wasn’t significant, only a pint or so. You sustained a first degree burn on a portion of your back from the hot water,” Abby explains. Clarke is suddenly aware of the slight stinging sensation from her back, but it’s nothing terrible. It feels much like sunburn, and she knows it’ll only take a few days to heal.

“When do I leave?” Clarke asks, swallowing back the horrible feelings rising in her chest. Logistics, she can work with.

“In the afternoon. You just need some sleep and a final check up, and you should be able to go,” Abby assures. She gives Clarke a small, sympathetic smile, and Clarke does her best to return it.

There’s a moment of silence that falls over the room, but Abby soon breaks it. Clarke doesn’t mind. The more she can focus on anything other than what’s inside her head, the better.

“I pulled some strings and got your friends a pass to stay here until you woke, but I do have to send them home now. They’ll be back when you’re discharged, I’m sure,” her mother says. To confirm, several hands squeeze Clarke’s arms and legs. Lexa, however, does not budge. Clarke gets a sense that she isn’t going to, either.

At this, Abby and Gustus back away from the bed to give Clarke and her friends space, saying something about being back in a few minutes. When they’re gone, the blonde is met with rambling ‘I love you’s, forehead kisses, and tears that make her heart feel impossibly heavier in her chest. The sound of Octavia sniffling in Bellamy’s arms as Raven leans down to kiss Clarke’s forehead brings fresh tears to the blonde’s own eyes.

“We need you, Griff. Don’t you forget that,” Raven says. They’re all looking at her with the sincerest eyes that hold no trace of anger or disappointment. Clarke tries to speak, but all that sounds is a broken whisper of a word. It must be enough, however, because they don’t ask for more. Monty gives one final squeeze of Clarke’s hand before he and the rest of their friends head out the door. When it closes behind them, Lexa is the only person left in the room, and she doesn’t appear to have any intentions of leaving.

There’s a heavy silence between the two of them for a moment, and Clarke thinks she’s done it. She’s blown one of the best things that’s come into her life since her dad died all because she made a stupid decision when she was barely awake enough to think. When she feels Lexa pulling herself even closer to her body, however, Clarke thinks that maybe there’s hope after all.

For a moment more, there’s only silence. Then, Lexa speaks.

“I tried to follow Costia when she left,” she admits. Her voice is hushed, and she sounds as though her mind is somewhere far. Clarke doesn’t have to guess where, and the realization of what Lexa’s words mean makes her heart ache. A world without Lexa is not one she thinks she could ever imagine, and the reality that such a world nearly existed terrifies her. “I was in your place. I woke up to Anya curled up with me, like this, and I thought she was going to hate me forever for almost giving up.”

“She could never. She loves you more than she loves herself, Lexa,” Clarke assures her. It’s the most words she’s spoken at once since she woke, and her voice still feels scratchy and unsteady.

“So why do you assume that we all hate you?”

Clarke freezes. How could Lexa have known that’s what she was feeling?

“You’re quite readable to someone who’s paying attention, Clarke. I noticed how you cringed every time someone said they love you,” Lexa explains. Clarke lets out a sigh and turns her head slightly so that it rests on top of the brunette’s.

“What happened?” Lexa asks quietly.

Clarke doesn’t speak for a moment. She isn’t sure how to explain exactly what she felt, or why she did it, but she thinks she might have a general idea.

“He was such a good person. He didn’t deserve that pain, dying in that fire. Alone. I made so many mistakes after he died, Lexa,” she begins. She knows that once she’s started, she isn’t going to be able to stop. She decides against her better judgement and lets her words run free. “The first year after he was gone, I just gave up. I started cutting, I didn’t eat, I didn’t care about school, I hardly even cared about people.”

Clarke cringes again when she remembers how she treated her friends and family, and how they were so kind through it all. She thinks she’ll have to work until the day she dies to make up for how she acted that year.

“I finally stopped cutting, but I replaced that void with sex. Careless, thoughtless, loveless sex. And I never enjoyed a second of it, but I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t ready to try to face my emotions. I’ve only been better for a year now.”

She expects Lexa to cringe, to back away, to slink away from her like she’s some dirty being, but she doesn’t. Instead, the brunette simply holds her tight and continues to listen.

“I guess I haven’t forgiven myself, because I thought I deserved this,” Clarke admits, gesturing weakly to the bandages on her arms. Tiny red lines seeping through show exactly where each cut is, and it makes Clarke’s stomach lurch uncomfortably.

Lexa gingerly sits up, wary of the bandage on Clarke’s left arm, and finally, the two of them meet eyes. Lexa’s emerald orbs shine with unshed tears, and the bags under her eyes make Clarke wonder if the brunette has gotten even three hours’ worth of sleep for the night. She makes a note to force the brunette to go back to sleep with her as soon as possible, but decides to give Lexa time to say what she wants to say.

“You are so much more than those bad choices, Clarke. That does not define you,” she says. Her tone is pointed and sincere, and Clarke gulps. She’s almost intimidated by the brunette’s intensity though her words are so caring and compassionate.

The blonde doesn’t respond. Her mind seems to have gone blank, and she can’t tear herself away from Lexa’s gaze. Though still watery-eyed, she’s looking at Clarke in complete awe. She’s looking at Clarke like she put the stars in the sky again, and Clarke doesn’t understand.

“Why do you look at me like that, Lexa?” she whispers. Her voice sounds meek and unsteady, seeking validation, and she hates it. Lexa hardly looks like she’s breathing until she takes in a deep lungful of air as though preparing herself to speak.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m some good, pure, innocent being. I’m not, Lex.”

Lexa sighs. Instead of responding right away, she leans down and captures Clarke’s lips in a gentle kiss that speaks a thousand words before they even pass her lips.

When Lexa pulls back, however, she does speak.

“None of us is innocent. But that doesn’t make us no longer worthy of being loved.”

The words hit Clarke like a freight train, so hard that she feels like the wind has been knocked out of her. Her lips move as she tries to speak, tries to come up with some response to such powerful words, but she comes up empty. Lexa doesn’t ask for anything more. She simply settles herself back in Clarke’s arms, and this time, Clarke holds onto the brunette with all the strength she has.

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different people. Forgive yourself for what you did when you had to survive, Clarke. It’s time.”

Before the blonde can argue, exhaustion settles back in. She doesn’t have the energy to protest when her body pulls her into a deep, restful sleep, the brunette curled into her side never budging once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who could read: thoughts? As someone who has struggled with this myself, this is just a reflection of my personal experience.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things.  
> 1\. This chapter took a while because I was struggling with the loss of someone I looked up to, Christina Grimmie. I know this writing is not exactly up to par, but I hope it's good enough. Next chapter will be much better, I've already begun working on it. It's very special, I would say, in the development of Clarke and Lexa's relationship, and I hope I do it justice.  
> 2\. I did not expect the response that I received for last chapter and I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who commented. Hearing the way that chapter affected you and your kind, encouraging thoughts made me happier than I can express. As a person who has struggled and sometimes still struggles with the same issues that Clarke does, that chapter meant the world to me. Thank you so much for the kindness not only for that chapter, but for the previous ones as well.

The two weeks following Clarke’s incident passes fairly quickly, and rather painlessly. Well, not quite literally. The burn on her back heals in the first week, but the injuries don’t quite yet. Though they don’t sting as much anymore, and they’re well scabbed over, they’re still quite visible. At first, every glance at them makes Clarke’s stomach lurch. By the time the second Friday arrives, she can look at the wounds and only cringe a little. She’s able to carry on with her life without the crushing guilt she’d had before. Lexa and their friends make sure that the blonde doesn’t forget that she’s loved, nor that she’s stronger than her one moment of relapse. Through their love, she starts to feel okay again.

And it’s a good thing, too. When that next Saturday morning comes, she wakes in Lexa’s arms, in Lexa’s bed, at Lexa’s house to an unfamiliar voice accompanying footsteps bounding down the hall.

“LEXIE LEXIE LEXIE LEXIE!”

The brunette being summoned groans, sending warm vibrations down Clarke’s neck. Clarke grins and pulls Lexa’s hand, which is currently thrown protectively over her waist, up to her lips. She kisses the brunette’s hand gently, eliciting a chuckle from the girl. Lexa’s head falls slack against the back of Clarke’s neck as she slowly begins to wake up.

“Do I want to know what time it is?” she murmurs, voice muffled by Clarke’s tangled mess of hair. The blonde looks upward toward the clock on Lexa’s bedside table and sighs when she sees the time. She would have much preferred to see a nine as the first number rather than a seven, but no such luck blesses her today.

“We’ll just pretend it’s later, love,” Clarke offers, and Lexa chuckles once again. No sooner does she start to stretch before the sound of the boy waiting impatiently outside breaks the moment of peace they’d been given.

“LEXA! Come on, Aunt Anya said you’d be ready to play when I got here!”

“Did she now?” Lexa calls back, forcing herself to stand. Clarke pulls herself up to balance on her elbow, eyes scanning Lexa’s half-exposed body as she stretches. She’s wearing an all-black sports bra and dark blue boxers. A fashion sin, technically, but damn, if she doesn’t look good doing it. To top it off, Lexa’s hair is the wild wavy mess that Clarke absolutely adores, and it falls perfectly over her right shoulder. Clarke is certain that she’s got an angel for a girlfriend, and the bit of sunlight streaming in through the window only helps to solidify this theory.

“Yeah, she did!” the boy calls, pulling Clarke out of her enchanted trance. Lexa walks over to her dresser and rummages through her shorts drawer, then her tanktop drawer. She pulls them on in record time, then spins around.

“I’d put some clothes on if I were you,” she teases, gesturing to the bag of clothes at the foot of the bed. Clarke’s got a decent outfit in there somewhere, she’s sure, but she’s just not ready to go searching for it yet. This bed is far too comfortable, and she’s had far too little hours of sleep.

Still, she knows her girlfriend is right, so she grumbles reluctantly and throws the covers off her body. Her skin breaks out into goosebumps at the sudden rush of cooler air, and those clothes don’t sound so bad anymore.

When she’s finally dressed and slightly decent looking, Clarke looks up to flash her girlfriend a thumbs up. Finally, after the better part of five minutes’ worth of pestering, Lexa opens the door to see the reason for being woken so early.

A small boy, likely about four foot nothing with shaggy blonde hair and one of the cutest smiles Clarke’s ever seen, stands eagerly at the door. Lexa’s given no warning whatsoever when he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around her middle. Lexa lets out an ‘oof’ in surprise and actually stumbles backward, then chuckles as she wraps her arms around the little boy’s shoulders. The sight makes Clarke’s heart melt instantly, and she bites her lip to keep from smiling too wide.

“Anya said we’re gonna go play today with you and Clarke’s friends. Who’s Clarke?” the boy asks. Clarke sighs as she realizes that he’s running at a million miles an hour, and if he’s this hyper at seven in the morning, it isn’t likely that he’s going to be any calmer later in the day.

Lexa grins and gently peels the boy off of her, resting her hands on his shoulders gently. He seems to recognize the movement and he takes a breath, trying to slow himself down. When his mind settles enough for him to focus, Lexa lifts one hand and gestures toward Clarke.

The boy’s eyes follow, and when the two of them meet gazes, Clarke realizes that emerald green eyes that bright must be genetic.

He smiles, his energy still there bubbling beneath the surface but under control. He brings up a hand to wave, and Clarke does the same, giving him a friendly smile in return.

“Clarke, this is Aden, Anya’s best friend’s son,” Lexa explains. “He just turned six a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hi, Aden,” Clarke replies, her smile never leaving her face. Aden waves again, his own grin widening.

“Aden, this is Clarke. My girlfriend.”

Aden’s eyes go wide, and Clarke’s heart flutters slightly in concern.

“Girls can have girlfriends?” he asks incredulously, like he’s never heard the idea before. The question almost puts Clarke at ease, but not quite.

“Yes. And boys can have boyfriends, too. People can date whoever they want,” Lexa explains. She sits on the edge of her bed so that she’s more eye level with him, and he smiles.

“Cool,” he marvels. Clarke lets out a breath of air she didn’t realize she was holding and moves to join Lexa on the bed. Just as she does so, a familiar figure leans against the doorway, smirking.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauties. Aden tell you the plan yet?” Anya says. Her own hair is messy and disheveled as though she only just recently woke, herself. Clarke grins at seeing Anya’s makeup-free, seven in the morning self. She’s slightly less intimidating, and it puts the blonde at ease.

“He did. When was this decided?” Lexa asks. Aden crawls onto the bed behind her, nearly tripping in the process, and wraps his arms around her neck. The brunette grins and cranes upward to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Last night when you two passed out at nine like losers. Octavia and...Raven, is it?” Anya inquires. Clarke and Lexa both nod, and the older woman continues. “They came by and asked if you two wanted to go to a movie, and when I said you were asleep, we came up with this plan. They said it would make up for you guys missing movie night.”

Clarke smiles and rolls her eyes slightly at her two friends. Of course they would demand penance for the two of them falling asleep early on a Friday night.

“When are they getting here?” Lexa asks, gently prying Aden off of her neck. They little boy settles for sitting crosslegged behind her, barely tall enough to peer over his shoulder and look at Anya. The dirty blonde haired woman grins wide as two more figures stroll into view. They both have dark circles under their eyes, and Clarke muses at the fact that despite likely not sleeping more than four hours last night, they still looked positively enthused at spending the day with a hyper six year old kid.

“Morning, losers,” Raven chides, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“So here’s the deal,” Anya says, clapping her hands. “You get him for the day, I get him from five on. Cool?”

“And how do we entertain little Aden here at seven in the morning?” Lexa asks, looking behind her. Aden grins, then his eyes go wide as though an idea has struck him.

“Can we make pancakes and watch cartoons?” he pleads, practically bouncing up and down.

 _Did he just drink sugar water for breakfast?_ Clarke wonders, marveling at the boy’s energy at such early hours of the day. She glances over to Raven and Octavia, still standing in the doorway behind Anya. They’re looking at Clarke and Lexa with the same begging eyes and pouty lips that Aden is, and Clarke rolls her eyes. She swears she’s friends with the most childish people she could have possibly met. Still, she can’t fight back the cheeky smile on her face at the sight.

“It appears we have no choice,” Lexa deadpans, but she too is grinning. Octavia and Raven smile and promptly tear down the hall. Not a moment later, there’s a loud thud that makes Clarke wince.

“I’m okay!” Raven calls. “Hardwood floors are slippery, fun fact!”

Now, Clarke can’t hold back. She breaks into a fit of giggles as Anya smiles and rolls her eyes, then walks calmly down the hallway toward the kitchen. Aden tumbles off of the bed and heads after her, running quickly but carefully to catch up. This leaves Clarke and Lexa alone in the brunette’s bedroom, likely the last moment for them to catch their breath for several hours.

Lexa turns her head to look at Clarke, and a small smile tugs at her lips. It’s that adorable half smile that makes Clarke’s heart flutter every time, and this morning is no exception. She smiles back, that familiar warm feeling in her chest bubbling up.

The brunette leans forward and presses her lips to Clarke’s cheek, and a blush immediately creeps onto the blonde’s features. The kiss is so gentle, so tender, and she’s still trying to get used to someone loving her this way. She’s still trying to get used to someone loving her so gently but still not treating her like she’s broken.

“You think Abby would mind if I stay with you tonight? I love Aden, I do, but I’m going to want to rest after a day like this,” Lexa asks, chuckling lightly. Clarke grins and nods, never wanting to miss an opportunity for her girlfriend to stay the night.

“COME ON, SLOWPOKES!”

Lexa smiles and hangs her head in tired defeat at the sound of Octavia’s voice calling down the hallway. Still, she stands and holds out her hand toward Clarke.

“Join me, m’lady,” she says regally, straightening her back. Clarke takes her hand and pulls herself upward, hanging on for just a moment longer to allow her still tired legs to adjust. Once she’s steady, she pulls the brunette’s hand to her lips and kisses it softly, her eyes fluttering shut. She doesn’t open them until her arm is out of sight, but she hopes the brunette doesn’t notice.

Wordlessly, with content smiles on their faces, they head down the hall where the kitchen is already beginning to smell of cooking pancakes.

\--

They finish breakfast in record time, a whopping ten minutes being all it takes for them to each scarf down three pancakes each. Though breakfast ends quickly, they sit in the living room watching every cartoon under the sun until somewhere around eleven. Clarke knows that they would have stopped watching two hours earlier if it hadn’t been for the fact that both Octavia and Raven fell asleep on the couch, likely making up for what they didn’t get the night before. Anya, Clarke, and Lexa seem to agree to let them sleep, and Aden certainly doesn’t protest more time to watch cartoons.

When the two of them finally wake up around 11:10, the little blonde boy is starting to get antsy again. Clarke sighs, trying to think of a way for them to let his energy out. She doesn’t have to think for long, though, for an idea strikes her a moment later.

“Do you like laser tag, Aden?” she asks, sitting up slightly in Lexa’s arms. Her muscles are beginning to ache from lack of use, and she stretches them subtly.

“I love laser tag!” he exclaims, leaping up from his seat on the floor. Lexa winces at the loudness of his voice, but hardly lets it show.

“Good. Why don’t we go to the laser tag place until lunch time, then we can…”’

“Go swimming at my house,” Octavia offers. Clarke turns to face the girl, eyebrow raised. “Bell is out with his friend Lincoln today, and Mom’s working.”

Clarke nods. It’s not a bad idea after all. Both of those activities require physical exertion, which seems to be one of the only things that could possibly calm Aden’s hyperactive energy. Aden grins at the idea of going swimming, and Clarke takes that as a yes.

“Do what you want within legal limits and have him back here at five. The rest is up to you,” Anya says, already getting up and heading off down the hall to her room.

“Is there anything we-”

“Five o’clock!” she calls back, and Clarke hears the click of a door.

She turns her head, and three eager faces stare back at her. Raven, Octavia, and Aden look up at her expectantly, waiting for her approval to head out. Three children that she’s looking after today.

Clarke turns her head just slightly more to meet Lexa’s eyes, and the brunette smiles lazily.

“I think they might want to go,” she says, scrunching her nose as though in thought. Clarke sighs. Four children.

“Alright, let’s go,” she mutters, though she has to bite back a grin. Raven and Octavia are first to leap up off of the couch, already tearing toward the front door. Octavia lets out a squeal of a word, and Clarke is fairly certain the brunette is calling shotgun.

Aden barely blinks as he runs off after them. Lexa and Clarke both sigh in exasperated preparation for the day ahead and force themselves up off the couch.

\--

Ten or twelve games of laser tag come and go quickly, and Clarke learns a lot that day.

  1. Lexa is incredibly bad at aiming. Like, REALLY bad.
  2. Raven and Octavia have no concept of accuracy.
  3. Aden is better than all four of them combined, literally. His scores in each game were higher than all of theirs put together.



As they pull into the parking lot of the ice cream place that Anya had taken them to, The Dropship, Raven and Octavia are going on about some guy in the front seat.

“But did you see him, O? He had long hair. Like, down to his shoulders long,” Raven says, pulling the car into park. She shuts off the engine, but no one makes a move to get out quite yet.

Octavia suddenly slams her arm out and plummets it against Raven’s chest, eliciting a surprised ‘oof’ from the older brunette.

“Was that the dude that was camping in the tower?” Octavia asks, her voice urgent and slightly higher pitched. Raven nods.

“He was such a dick! Those poor little kids were like five and he just kept shooting at them,”  Octavia continues. She pulls her arm away from Raven’s sternum, and the older of the two rubs at the sensitive bone gingerly. Aden chuckles from his spot between Clarke and Lexa, and both of them look down at the younger boy.

“His name was stupid, too,” he says. “Fins are for fish, not people.”

Raven snickers from the driver’s seat as she hangs her sunglasses over the rearview mirror. She looks up into said mirror, then, and meets Clarke’s eyes. She quirks an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

“Alright, let’s go get some ice cream.”

Raven, Octavia, and Lexa barrel out of the car, and Aden follows quickly out of Lexa’s door. He nearly trips when his foot gets caught in one of the seatbelts, but Lexa surprises him by picking him up and throwing him over her shoulder like he weighs nothing. As Clarke gets out, she catches Lexa’s gaze. Aden’s kicking slightly and begging for her to put him down, but he’s giggling like crazy. Lexa grins ear to ear, and the sight of her girlfriend doing so well with a kid makes Clarke’s heart flutter in adoration.

Lexa finally puts Aden down just before they get in the door, and he sprints inside as Octavia holds open the door. Raven’s already at the counter, and he tugs on her shirt. Clarke’s fairly certain she hears him talking about not being able to see. Raven hoists him up effortlessly.

“That is so cute,” Octavia whispers from behind Clarke as she walks in behind Lexa. The blonde turns and finds Octavia staring at Raven and Aden with the same adoration that she herself had felt moments ago. Clarke chuckles. If Clarke didn’t know any better, she’d say Octavia was catching feelings. (Judging by the way the brunette keeps looking at Raven, maybe Clarke doesn’t know any better.)

They eat their ice cream in relative silence, the first moment of quiet they’ve had all day. Aden is too preoccupied with his chocolate cookie dough ice cream to focus on much of anything else, and everyone seems grateful. They decide to savor the quiet by indulging in their own treats, each of varying kinds. As Clarke lips her lips after the last bite, the remnants of raspberry cheesecake slide over her tongue.

As soon as the ice cream is finished, they waste no time in heading to Octavia’s house. It’s nearing 2:30, meaning they’ve only got two and a half hours left before Aden is meant to be returned to Anya. Clarke wonders what the older blonde is doing with all of her free time. The heaviness in Clarke’s eyelids tells her pretty quickly what she’ll be doing come five o’clock.

When you grow up with someone for years, you tend to keep a stockpile of clothes at their house. This is the only way that Clarke has a bathing suit, something no one thought about when they left the house that morning. Raven, Octavia, and Lexa are all roughly the same size, and the three of them manage to raid Octavia’s collection to find one that suits their needs. (Lexa of course opts for one of Bellamy’s bottoms, insisting that she can pull the strings tighter if she has to.) The only trouble, then, is tiny little Aden.

“I’ll raid Bellamy’s room. That boy never gets rid of anything. I’m sure he has a bathing suit from when he was little somewhere,” Octavia assures.

She’s really not kidding, either. She returns with a pair of green Ninja Turtles swim trunks, and Aden couldn’t be happier.

Clarke is the first to finish changing. She reaches the living room and plops down on the couch, allowing herself a few moments of peace and quiet. She can’t help the way her eyes fall shut as she sinks into the cushioned fabric.

“Do you love Lexa?”

The little voice makes Clarke nearly fall off the couch in surprise. She mutters something under her breath as she sits up, willing her racing heart to slow down. Aden sits on the floor crosslegged, looking up at Clarke expectantly.

“I do,” the blonde assures. Though the words have been said countless times, the thought still makes her heart race for an entirely different reason than being scared out of her almost-nap.

Aden doesn’t respond. Instead, he looks down at the detailed rug beneath him, his fingers picking at one of the loose strands of yarn.

“Does she love you?” he asks a few moments later, looking up. Clarke runs her hand through her hair slowly, knowing that swimming will leave countless knots in it. She sighs, then returns her attention to the little boy next to her.

“She says so,” she jokes, and Aden grins toothily. He’s missing one of the teeth next to his two front ones, and his tongue pokes out through the hole. It’s one of the most adorable things Clarke has ever seen.

“Lexie never says that to hardly anyone,” he says, tilting his head. “You must be special.”

“She is.”

Lexa’s voice is bold, louder than Clarke’s and Aden’s as she steps into the room. She’s wearing sky blue trunks that match perfectly (for once) with the blue bikini top Octavia has lent her. Her hair is already starting to look wavy from the humid air outside, and Clarke can’t wait for how it will look when it dries later that evening. The blonde looks up to meet shining green eyes staring lovingly at her, pupils dilated. A familiar warmth spreads through Clarke’s chest.

She doesn’t have time to say anything back, however, because Octavia and Raven walk into the room next.

“Last one in the pool loses,” Raven says quickly, and this time, even Clarke takes off in a mad dash to jump into the water.

\--

They finally arrive back from Octavia’s house at five o’clock on the dot. The two hours of swimming has left them all pruned and shivering slightly against the air conditioning in Raven’s car. Aden, who was nodding off on the way there, wakes almost instantly as they pull into the driveway. Any tiredness that he had been feeling from the exertion of the day is all but gone, and once again, he’s practically bouncing in his seat, unable to sit still.

Clarke adores the boy, she does, but she’s grateful that it’s Anya’s turn to look after him again. It’s amazing how one long, exhausting day can make a night of ten hours of sleep feel like ten minutes. She gets the sense that she won’t be staying up late tonight, and judging by the way Lexa looks about ready to pass out, she thinks it won’t be hard to convince the girl to come to bed early with her.

Raven shuts off the red 2016 Impala (a disgrace to Impalas everywhere, according to Octavia, who will accept no less than a black 1967 Chevy Impala containing Sam, Dean, and Castiel) and sighs, leaning back against her seat.

“I suppose we have to get out now, don’t we?” she says. Clarke grins as the two of them meet eyes in the rearview mirror. She looks as exhausted as Clarke feels, the blonde has no doubt in her mind that she and Octavia will be going straight for a nap when they get to Raven’s.

“Nah, you two don’t have to. Thanks for the lifts, and for keeping this one entertained,” Lexa says, ruffling Aden’s hair. He groans and reaches up to fix it, but it’s no use. It’s already beginning to dry from the pool, cementing the messy style in place.

“Anytime. Now get out, I’m tired,” Raven replies, but her grin gives her away. Clarke unbuckles her seatbelt and leans upward into the front seats, kissing both Raven and Octavia on the cheek before getting out. Aden follows, and Lexa is just about to step out of the car when Octavia calls back to her.

“Woods, get your ass back in here and give us some love,” she says. Aden giggles at the foul language, and Clarke puts her hands over his ears. Still, she can’t help but grin. She leans down to see inside the car, where Raven and Octavia are both trying to look as threatening as possible.

She can see Lexa biting the inside of her cheeks in an attempt to keep her smile at bay, but it does no use. Her happiness is unmistakeable. She complies with their request, leaning back inside the car to kiss them both on the cheek just as Clarke had.

“Acting like you’re not our best friend too. Feeling the love, Rex, feeling the love,” Raven teases, but she’s grinning just as wide as Lexa. “See you guys later. Love you.”

“Yeah, what she said,” Octavia quips, smiling as well.

“Love you guys too,” Clarke and Lexa echo. The four of them share one last smile before Lexa closes the open back door, and the Impala speeds off toward Raven’s house.

Lexa doesn’t stop smiling for the whole twenty minutes it takes for them to drop Aden off, pack their clothes, and head off on the walk to Clarke’s house.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again...I tried to make this as special and non-sexualized as I could, while still writing it for what it is. I hope this is enjoyable and still sensitive to the topic at hand. Feedback is always welcomed, good and bad!

As soon as they walk in the door, the smell of dinner cooking is already wafting through the air. Clarke smiles as she takes her shoes off and places them next to the doorway, then sets her and Lexa’s bags down next to the television set. Lexa kicks of her own shoes and lines them up neatly with the rest of the shoes, then immediately follows Clarke into the kitchen.

Abby is facing the stove, stirring a pot of some unknown substance. She doesn’t even look up before speaking.

“Hi, girls,” she says, and Clarke can hear the smile. The blonde grins at the use of the plural, loving the way her mother automatically knows that Lexa’s there. “I hope ravioli sounds good, because that’s what you’re getting.”

Lexa chuckles. “That sounds wonderful, Abby.”

As if on cue, the older woman turns around with the strainer in her hand. It’s steaming and still dripping slightly, but the pasta inside of it looks wonderful. She empties the contents of the strainer into a bowl, then turns to set the strainer in the sink before cleaning up the dishes. Clarke’s eyes catch the jar of pasta sauce sitting on the counter, and she grabs it. She opens the jar carefully, having fallen victim to explosive cans and jars many a time before, and pours the majority of its contents into the bowl of ravioli. Lexa then gently sends her out of the way, using her hips to scoot the girl over. Clarke grins and lets her, and the brunette stirs the sauce and pasta together.

By the time the ravioli is complete with sauce and parmesan cheese sprinkled on top, Abby is finished with the dishes she used while making it. She turns around, seemingly expecting to find the ravioli pouches still sitting in that bowl, but stops when she sees Clarke and Lexa standing there with it finished instead.

“Well thank you,” Abby says, smiling. She grabs for the plates and silverware that are sitting on the counter next to the sink and hands them out. They dish up their fill of pasta, leaving the bowl almost empty, and head toward the kitchen table. Tonight is one of those types of dinners.

“Do you eat anything but Italian food?” Lexa asks jokingly as they sit down. Abby and Clarke sit across from each other, and Lexa takes the seat on the end of the table. 

“Ask the carboholic,” Abby deadpans as she looks up at Clarke. The blonde smiles, unable to deny the accusation.

Dinner goes wonderfully. As usual, it only takes about twenty minutes for them to actually eat their dinner (and twenty minutes more when they decide to make garlic bread to go with it). The rest of the hour and a half they spend at the dinner table is spent talking about their days. It feels so normal to have Lexa there, and Clarke appreciates the way she’s accepted as though they’d known her all their lives.

“You know, with as much time as you used to spend shooting airsoft with your father, I’m surprised you couldn’t beat a nine year old at laser tag,” Abby teases. It’s still hard sometimes, but they know that if they never talk about him, the pain will never go away. She still cringes when he’s mentioned, as does her mother, but she doesn’t let it show too visibly.

“You would not believe how good this kid is,” Clarke chuckles, sipping on her water as she finishes her last bite of garlic bread. The half loaf is completely devoured between the three of them.

“He also had Octavia and Raven on his team. Three against two isn’t equal,” Lexa attempts. 

“Oh come on. Octavia and Raven didn’t even get half the points on their team in total. He was better than all of us and you know it,” Clarke quips. Lexa grins and accepts her defeat, knowing that her girlfriend is right.

“Yeah, but we definitely dominated in Chicken,” the brunette says. Clarke rolls her eyes, and Abby smiles.

“He could barely reach us, of course we did,” Clarke replies. 

“It sounds like you guys had a really good day, though. I’m glad to hear it,” Abby says. Clarke and Lexa both smile, because it truly was a good day, even if Aden’s constant energy was rather exhausting. The word ‘exhausting’ alone reminds Clarke of how heavy her eyelids feel, but she refuses to fall asleep at seven in the evening. It is far too early for that.

Abby looks down at her watch and sighs. “One more night of the night shift, and I go back to working days. Jackson better pay up bigtime for me switching shifts with him.”

Clarke chuckles. She’s met Jackson a few times. He’s an interesting guy, funny and lighthearted, and he can make a patient feel better simply by talking to them. His good nature is infectious. He and Abby work the same type of position, so switching shifts is not a difficult task. The man has worked night shift for so long that even Abby can’t deny he deserves a chance to actually get out and enjoy his evenings with friends every once in awhile, so the switching of shifts is his version of a mini vacation.

“It starts at 7:30, right?” Clarke asks. The hospital is only five minutes away, but she knows her mother always tries to get there just a little bit early. The woman loves her job dearly and is committed as Clarke has ever seen anyone be.

“It does. I’ve got to get ready. Lexa, you’re staying, yes?” Abby asks, standing to gather their plates. Lexa and Clarke both immediately try to grab their own dishes to take care of them themselves, but their hands are promptly swatted away. Lexa gives Abby a grateful half smile and they follow her into the kitchen to continue their conversation as she gets around.

“I am,” Lexa answers, leaning on her elbows against the island. Clarke looks past the kitchen sink and out the window, and she smiles to herself at the beautiful colors in the sky from the setting sun. A sudden clatter of dishes being placed in the dishwasher startles her out of her miniature trance, and she directs her attention back to the conversation at hand.

“Good,” Abby says. She straightens her back and approaches them, then rests against the countertop herself. “Before you two head up to bed, I want to talk to you.”

Oh no. Oh, no no no no no.

Lexa gulps, seemingly thinking the same thing as Clarke. The blonde catches her mother biting her cheeks in an attempt not to smile, and that’s proof enough that this conversation is going exactly where she thinks it’s going to go. Her cheeks heat up involuntarily, and Abby must notice, because she can’t help but let out a little chuckle.

“I’ll make this as painless as possible,” she says, still grinning. Clarke groans and hides her face in her hands as she leans against the island. Lexa makes no sound, and the blonde imagines she’s practically frozen in mortification.

“Look,” Abby begins. There’s laughter still clearly in her voice, and Clarke wants to cry. She literally wants to cry in embarrassment, and she groans again when she feels Lexa put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I love kids, I do.”

“Oh God. Mom, don’t,” Clarke mutters. 

“I just don’t want grandchildren yet, okay?”

“Well this has been a lovely and enlightening conversation,” Clarke says, standing straight up. As expected, Abby is grinning in amusement at both her and Lexa’s mortification. Clarke looks backward to find Lexa as wide-eyed and paled as she feels, and if she weren’t so embarrassed, she’d be laughing at how horrified Lexa looks. Her eyes flit up to the clock on the wall, and she nearly breathes a sigh of relief.

“Oh, look, Mom! If you want to be there early, you have to get around now,” Clarke urges. “Like, right now.”

Abby’s still grinning as she looks at the time, and sure enough, Clarke is right. When her mother turns back around, Clarke is certain that her face is the color of a tomato.

“I’ll see you girls both tomorrow morning, okay? Have a good night,” Abby says. She leans forward and kisses Clarke’s cheek, then Lexa’s. She pulls them both into a hug, and despite her embarrassment, Clarke doesn’t hesitate to hug back. She hands her mother the keys to the car, grabbing them from the spot where they hang next to the kitchen door. Abby smiles and thanks her quietly, then grabs the bag she’s already made up for her shift from where it sits just outside the door.

“I enjoyed dinner, thank you girls,” she says, turning back for a moment. Clarke smiles, and she feels a little bit of the tension leave her body.

“Thank you for making it. Be safe, I love you,” she says. Abby echoes the same, purposely using the same wording. Clarke almost chuckles as she sees Lexa cringe. They don’t move until after they hear the front door click shut.

There’s a moment of somewhat awkward silence between them. Lexa is the first to speak.

“So. Upstairs?”

Clarke nods silently, and they walk slowly up the stairs. Clarke’s legs shouldn’t be wobbly, but they are. She barely makes it to her room without her knees giving out. When Lexa slowly shuts the door behind them, the sound of the door clicking makes her heart flutter slightly. She reaches over to the nightstand and clicks on the lamp, giving some light to the otherwise dark room. The two of them settle on the bed, their bags discarded at the foot of it.

“Have you thought about it?”

Lexa’s words are quiet, as though she isn’t sure she wants Clarke to hear her. Instead, they cause a flood of relief to wash over Clarke. She didn’t have to say it first anymore.

“Honestly? Yes,” Clarke replies. Lexa’s shoulders drop from their position next to her ears, and she lets out a sigh. Her feet move aimlessly, kicking quietly against the bed. Clarke herself is fiddling with her fingers, intertwining them and pulling at them in any way she can to keep herself busy.

“Me, too,” Lexa admits, as if it wasn’t obvious. Clarke smiles now, just slightly. “Not...not everything, though. I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Clarke nods. “Me either. That’s pretty daunting, huh?”

This time, it is Lexa who smiles. She grins as she lets out another sigh, and the movement in her legs becomes less anxious. It settles to a simple bouncing of her feet.

“Yeah,” she replies.

There’s silence between them for a moment, but it’s not awkward. Clarke’s heart continues to flutter oddly, and it’s somewhat difficult for her to breathe. She hopes that the brunette won’t notice.

And she doesn’t. As the silence lengthens, Lexa’s eyes begin to dart around a bit more, and her breathing also increases. Her legs start to bounce faster again as her fingers move absently. Clarke recognizes this. 

She reaches over and intertwines their fingers together, her thumb instinctively running over the back of Lexa’s palm. They both take a deep breath, nearly in sync with each other, but Lexa’s nervousness is unmistakable. Clarke leans over and presses her lips to the brunette’s forehead.

“Does it scare you?” she asks, mumbling against her girlfriend’s skin. She leans back slightly, but still rests her head against Lexa’s.

“I don’t want to scare you, I guess,” Lexa admits. “With my body, and...and how it works, and I know it’s only been a couple weeks since that night and I never wanted to bring it up un-”

“Lexa,” Clarke whispers. Lexa quiets immediately, pursing her lips together. She sighs and leans her head on Clarke’s shoulder, burying her face in the blonde’s neck. Despite the topic of conversation, Clarke’s heart still melts at how adorable that simple action is.

“I want you.”

They’re three simple words, but Clarke knows they hold all that Lexa seeks to hear.

“Wait...now?” Lexa asks. Clarke can’t help but laugh at the way the brunette seems so incredulous. She’s only seen Lexa like this a couple of times, and every time, it’s just as cute and amusing. 

“Well, I wasn’t quite referring to now, but now that you mention it…”

Clarke earns a slap on the shoulder for that one, and she giggles. She falls backward onto the bed and pulls her legs over so that she’s laying in the middle of the sheets. Lexa turns her head backward, smiling at her girlfriend, and nudges the girl over so that she can lay in the bed as well.

They lay there comfortably for a few moments, neither of the two saying a word. The longer they sit there, the more Clarke’s mind wanders. She doesn’t even bother trying to reel it in.

“Lexa?”

“Yes?”

Clarke takes in a shuddering breath, trying to prepare herself for the question she’s about to ask. She prays that she isn’t about to screw something up.

“Can I...Can I feel you?”

Lexa is silent for a few moments, and again, Clarke thinks she’s done it. Her hand flies up to cover her face, but Lexa catches it before she gets there. Their heads turn, and when they meet each other’s eyes, Clarke nearly gasps.

Lexa’s eyes have darkened, full of desire and undeniable love that Clarke has never seen before in her life. Her lips are parted slightly, and the blonde can hear every shuddering, shaking breath that the brunette breathes. She stares at Clarke, silently, lost in her transfixion on the blonde’s eyes, and Clarke’s heart starts racing.

Lexa guides their hands downward, and their eyes never break contact. Clarke’s hand brushes against the spot where Lexa’s tanktop ends and her shorts begin. Lexa lets go of her hand and lets her own fall slack onto her stomach. 

“Is that a yes?” Clarke squeaks out. Lexa grins, and instead of answering in words, she surges forward and captures Clarke’s lips in a deep kiss that nearly makes the blonde pass out. The movement causes Lexa’s body to move forward slightly, causing Clarke’s hand to brush up against the hem of Lexa’s shorts again. Lexa gasps slightly as her eyes flutter closed, and a shiver runs through Clarke’s body at the sound.

When the brunette’s eyes open again, Clarke feels her heart skip a beat as something in her stomach tightens. This is really happening. This is actually happening.

“Go ahead,” Lexa whispers, her voice sounding strained. It’s the good kind of strained, Clarke knows, and if she weren’t so nervous, she would have smiled.

Her fingers fumble, shaking, as she tries to wedge them under Lexa’s shorts, then the hem of her boxers. She finally succeeds, and her hand brushes against warm skin. Her fingers travel down only slightly farther when she’s met with a sensation that almost makes her eyes roll into the back of her head.

Lexa groans quietly at the first touch, and her eyes close once again. Her jaw clenches as she tries to keep herself in check, and this time, Clarke actually does smile. She gets the idea that her girlfriend might possibly be enjoying this. 

Clarke dances around the head for a few moments longer, her fingers tapping and dragging across the sensitive skin. Each touch had the brunette shuddering and twitching, and Clarke tries to ignore the flood of heat that it sends through her body. When Lexa whimpers in frustration, however, that philosophy flies out the window. 

“Please, Clarke,” Lexa whispers, her head falling forward onto the blonde’s shoulder. Her words are a steaming breath of air that leave goosebumps on Clarke’s skin and shivers running down her spine. She takes a breath and reaches farther downward. In one move, she wraps her hand around the length, and the sound she makes is anything but human.

It’s not what she expected at all. It’s simultaneously harder and softer than she thought it would be, and she can feel the veins popping out more than she thought. The skin on the head is smoother than the skin on the length, and for some reason, she assumed it would all feel the same.

Clarke nearly gasps as she feels Lexa harden even further in her hand, and she swears she can feel her pulsing slightly. The blonde gulps and tries to hold back the sounds that want to break free from her throat.

“Clarke,” Lexa says breathily, her tongue clicking on the ‘k’ in Clarke’s name. This time, the blonde does not succeed at holding herself back. She lets out the smallest of moans and leans forward, her limbs suddenly shaking. The action causes her hand to move upward slightly, and Lexa gasps.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asks quickly. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she’s terrified. She doesn’t want to mess this up.

Lexa nods against the blonde’s shoulder, her breath coming out in shaky pants. Clarke still isn’t convinced that her girlfriend is truly okay. She gently retracts her hand, somewhat reluctantly, and wraps Lexa in her arms. The brunette doesn't protest and curls herself around Clarke, burying her face in the blonde’s neck. Her eyelashes flutter against sensitive skin, and Clarke tries her hardest to steady her racing heart.

“What happened?” Clarke whispers. Lexa sighs and falls slack against Clarke, her body relaxing entirely.

“I’m afraid you’ll find me disgusting. Like you’ll just...you’ll just realize it, or something,” Lexa replies, stumbling over her words slightly. Clarke shakes her head immediately.

“No, Lex. Never,” she assures. She tightens her arms around Lexa’s shoulders and trails her fingers across the exposed skin absently. “You amaze me.”

The words must help a little, for the brunette smiles against Clarke’s neck, then presses her lips to her collarbone. Clarke gasps involuntarily, then groans when she realizes what she’d done.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Lexa shuts her up immediately, lips reconnecting with that ever so sensitive spot in response. Clarke’s breath hitches, and she feels her hips stirring. She keeps them still, however, despite how difficult her girlfriend is making it. The brunette’s lips trail upward, slowly, and  _ God  _ it is torture.

She’s always known Lexa’s lips are soft, but they feel like clouds as they just barely graze over her skin one second but attach themselves the next. The brunette moves tediously, her tongue slipping out every now and then in one quick swipe to leave Clarke gasping. She’s beginning to feel restless by the time Lexa reaches her ear. 

Her lips open to say something, but all that comes out is a moan when Lexa takes her earlobe between her teeth and tugs on it gently, then replaces her teeth with her lips. Clarke swears the girl sucks on it for a moment, leaving her dizzy and needy. Lexa  pushes them gently over so that Clarke is laying on her back, Lexa hovering above her. 

Their eyes meet, and Clarke is breathless at the sight staring down at her. The most beautiful girl she’s ever met is hovering over her with lips swollen from kissing, eyes misty and wide with adoration, yet still dark with desire, shirt hanging off her shoulder revealing gorgeous collarbones. An idea comes to the blonde, and she reaches down to tug at the hem of Lexa’s tank, quirking an eyebrow as she does so. Lexa smiles slightly and sits up, her hips resting over Clarke’s. The feeling of Lexa’s length pressed up against her center sends a flood of heat down her body, and the brunette tugging her shirt over her head does nothing to help. Clarke sits up slightly, using the core muscles she does have to keep herself upward enough to tug her own shirt off. The articles of clothing are discarded on the floor next to them.

She doesn’t mean to stare. She doesn’t, really. But Lexa is too amazing not to appreciate. So she lets her eyes drift over the brunette’s toned form, and when she reaches Lexa’s eyes, she’s grinning with one eyebrow raised. Clarke flushes, knowing she’s been caught.

“Oops,” she says, shrugging slightly. Lexa rolls her eyes and leans down, her hips rolling against Clarke’s. The blonde’s eyes fall shut, and her lips are met with Lexa’s.

When they pull back, Clarke can only find one word in her mind.

“Beautiful,” she whispers. Her hands trail up Lexa’s sides and lock behind the brunette’s back, pulling her downward slightly. “Beautiful.”

Lexa smiles, a toothy grin that Clarke hasn’t seen very often. It falters slightly, but before Clarke can get concerned, she sees the way the brunette’s eyes have darkened again. Her breath hitches in the back of her throat.

“May I lie next to you?” she asks, her voice slightly deeper and huskier. Clarke nods, not even bothering to ask why.

Lexa shifts so that she’s lying next to Clarke, and without missing a beat, she tugs off her shorts, leaving her in those blue boxers that Clarke so adores. The blonde follows suit. Though they’ve lain like this before, it feels different, now. More exposed. She fights the urge to cover her stomach and simply waits for Lexa to make the next move.

“Same time?” the brunette whispers, turning her head to face Clarke. Clarke turns, meeting those pleading emerald orbs. Lexa looks hesitant as though she's afraid to hear what Clarke might say back.

“I'd like that,” the blonde replies, and Lexa visibly relaxes. She smiles now, a nervous chuckle leaving her lips as she adjusts her arms.

It takes a couple tries, filled with laughter and exasperation all the same, but they finally manage a way to reach other. Their hands rest motionless on the hems of their underwear. Clarke gulps as she sees the damp patch on her underwear, and the bulge straining against Lexa’s.

As if on cue, their hands move in sync, sliding beneath the waistbands without a second thought. Clarke lets out a tiny whimper as her hand wraps around Lexa and Lexa’s finger runs across that sensitive spot right at the top of her center. It’s an incredible feeling, to touch and be touched at the same time, and it’s nearly too much. She freezes, her heart racing and her breath caught in her throat.

“I think this is the part where we move,” Lexa rasps, and despite her arousal, Clarke can’t help but giggle. She could always rely on Lexa to make a witty comment like that.

They start slow. Clarke’s hand pumps up and down gingerly, like she’s afraid to hurt Lexa. She is, if she must admit it. She doesn’t know how sensitive everything is and doesn’t want to risk making the brunette uncomfortable. Judging by the sounds and the way Lexa is already beginning to writhe beneath her hand, she guesses that she’s not doing half bad.

Lexa is certainly not, either. She teases gently, fingers dancing across every part of her except the place Clarke wants her most. Every trail of the brunette’s fingers makes Clarke’s hips jump, and her insides clench and unclench in anticipation. 

Finally, they both get what they want. Clarke increases her pace, allowing her thumb to brush over Lexa’s head as it reaches the top of her shaft. Lexa shudders and gasps and moans every time, and Clarke’s fairly certain she hears a string of expletives here and there, too. Lexa does not disappoint as she finally begins circling around Clarke’s head at a torturously gentle pace. It isn’t necessarily slow, but each circle sends breathtaking jolts through the blonde’s body. 

“You’re amazing,” Lexa breathes out. Clarke chuckles shakily, trying to keep her breath steady though her hips are writhing and her stomach is already clenching. Lexa is starting to rut upward into Clarke’s hand, and it’s quite possibly the most attractive thing that blonde has ever seen.

Somehow, they lean over enough that their lips can meet as their hands continue to move. 

Their paces slow, much to both of their dismay, and they groan against each other’s mouths. Clarke feel’s Lexa’s length jump at the sensation, and she can’t help but grin. She whimpers, just loud enough for Lexa to hear, and it happens again.

“That’s mean,” Lexa mutters, her voice low as she lowers her head to Clarke’s ear. Another flood of heat rushes down between the blonde’s thighs, and she wonders if the brunette can feel it.

The familiar build starts at the base of Clarke’s stomach. She’s conflicted. Part of her doesn’t want this to end, but the other part of her is tortured by how long this is being dragged out. Her body craves release, and her hips jut upward, searching for it. Lexa continues to harden in Clarke’s hand, telling the blonde that she isn’t too far off, either.

Clarke pulls her head back so she can look at Lexa, and her breath is stolen from her chest. The brunette’s eyes are screwed shut, eyebrows quirked upward slightly. She’s going back and forth every so often between pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and letting it go in a rush of air. She continues to let out whimpers and needy moans as they continue their ministrations, and Clarke can tell that she’s not even a minute away.

“I love you,” the blonde whispers, struggling to get words out. She and Lexa both slow the pace of their hands ever so slightly, wanting to draw this out for just a bit longer.

“Ai hod yu in,” Lexa replies. Her eyes flutter open, and when they meet Clarke’s, both girls can’t help but smile softly at their lover.

Lexa’s thumb brushes seemingly thoughtlessly over Clarke’s head, but suddenly the blonde is dangerously close from that one movement. It must show in her eyes, because Lexa’s darken in response. Clarke pumps her hand faster, returning to the pace they were at before, and Lexa’s eyes roll back.

She’s seconds away, now. Lexa jumps in Clarke’s hand, stiffening further yet.

“Clarke,” the brunette whines, but the blonde can barely hear her as her own hips rise up off the bed, craving more. 

“Lexa, oh my-!”

Clarke comes first. Her entire body shakes and trembles as her insides explode in pleasure, leaving her breathless with darkening vision. Not a second later, Lexa follows her. Hot stickiness spurts over Clarke’s hand, only furthering her release. 

It takes a solid minute for both of them to come down, their hands still moving extremely slowly to help each other through their peaks. When their bodies finally relax, they both slump into the mattress, sticky and sweaty and most of all, exhausted.

As soon as Lexa is capable of coherent thought again, she begins panicking, immediately trying to sit up. She starts apologizing over and over, eyes darting around the room for a towel of some sort. Clarke simply lets go of the brunette’s shaft and withdraws her hand carefully. Lexa freezes as Clarke moves, and goes completely rigid when she catches sight of the substance still covering part of the blonde’s hand.

Clarke stares in awe, the reality of what just happened settling in. 

“Clarke, I am so sorry,” Lexa mutters. She pulls her hand away from Clarke’s center, and it too shines with wetness. Clarke goes flush with embarrassment, but quickly reminds herself that there’s no need.

“That was incredible,” she whispers. Her breathing is beginning to even out, and her eyelids are heavy. She wills herself to stay awake for a few minutes more, knowing they need to clean up before bed.

Lexa looks to Clarke, lips parted in confusion.

“You’re not...grossed out?” she asks. Clarke shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“That was wonderful,” she assures the brunette. Carefully, so as not to get the sticky substance coating her hand on the sheets, the blonde sits up so that she can be eye to eye with her lover. She leans in and presses a gentle kiss to the brunette’s lips. Lexa responds immediately, capturing Clarke’s lips with the same tenderness.

When they pull back, some of the panic has left Lexa’s eyes, and Clarke lets her shoulders drop. Their eyes drift down to their hands, and they grin simultaneously.

“We should probably clean up and put on new underwear,” Lexa suggests. Clarke giggles and nods. 

They make their way to the bathroom and wash their hands, ridding them of the evidence of what just occurred. Lexa, the childish person she is, flings the water at Clarke. The water is cold against her exposed skin and she shivers, then snaps Lexa gently with the towel in her hands. Lexa grins and accepts her fate, then takes the towel to dry her hands. 

They walk back to Clarke’s room in a comfortable, tired silence, and Lexa closes the door behind them. They strip off their underwear and toss it into Clarke’s laundry basket, making a note to wash the clothes in the morning. Clarke heads toward the dresser against the wall and reaches for the underwear drawer, but pauses.

She turns around, looking to the brunette. She’s bent over her overnight bag, searching for a clean pair of boxers. She pulls out the galaxy ones, and Clarke grins. Still, she walks over to Lexa and kneels down in front of her, gently taking the undergarment out of her hands.

Lexa looks up, slightly confused. Clarke smiles tentatively in response.

“Just lay with me?” she asks. Her voice is quiet, hopeful, unsure whether the brunette will reject her proposition or not. She doesn’t. Instead, she nods and holds out her hand, her long, slender fingers asking Clarke to join her.

Clarke takes it gingerly, allowing the brunette to pull both of them to their feet. They climb into the bed, each taking one part of the covers and pulling them over their bodies. The summer heat is scorching, even in the night, but Clarke still shivers as Lexa reaches around to wrap her arm around the small of Clarke’s back. Brunette hair falls into her face, and she gently reaches up to brush it away. She’s met with sleepy green eyes that trace silently over every feature on her face.

They intertwine their limbs, their legs wrapped together harmoniously as arms hold tightly around their torsos. They’re desperate for the contact, their post-high exhaustion leaving them both affectionate and cuddly. Clarke burrows her face in the crook of Lexa’s neck, breathing in the earthy scent of her as she allows her eyes to fall shut.

“Yu ste meizen,” Lexa whispers. Her throat vibrates as she speaks, and it’s comforting for the blonde. She smiles lazily against tanned skin and lets her lips press against Lexa’s collarbone in response.

“Goodnight, Lexa,” she says as the brunette traces absent patterns over her still slightly damp skin.

She isn’t awake long enough to hear the reply.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you again for so much kind feedback and kudos. This chapter might be a bit short, but I promise the next few will make up for it. I love this story and I feel honored to write it, I hope I'm still doing all issues justice. Let me know if there's anything you want to see addressed - I will make certain to do so!

“We’re going WHERE?”

Bellamy chuckles as he takes off his glasses and places them on the coffee table in the center of the room. It’s nearing five, now, and though they’ve only been over at the Blake house for a couple of hours, the time is coming to an end. Clarke sits up in Lexa’s lap, and the brunette instinctively runs her hands down Clarke’s spine. 

“A beach house,” Bellamy explains to a bewildered Octavia. “Both with a private and public beach area. Four days. Just our friends.”

Octavia shoots up excitedly from Raven’s arms, which have been wrapped around her middle as she leaned back against the older brunette’s chest. She leaps from the floor to Bellamy’s spot on the couch in a split second, and she pulls her brother in for a tight embrace. Bellamy laughs and wraps his arms around Octavia.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t do something special for your eighteenth?” he asks, feigning being offended. His body jolts slightly, and Clarke doesn’t have to guess for long to know that Octavia has just slapped his arm. He’s unfazed, however, and simply keeps smiling. Octavia finally pulls back and slides down to the floor again, where she sits crosslegged to look up at him. Her eyes are alight with excitement, and she’s practically bouncing.

“When is it?” she asks. Raven crawls over, almost pathetically, and rests her head in Octavia’s lap. Octavia absently begins running her fingers through the brunette’s hair.

“We leave in two days,” Bellamy explains. He turns to face Clarke and Lexa and he raises an eyebrow in inquiry.

“Do you think Abby and Gustus would let you go?” he asks. Lexa leans forward, hiding the bottom half of her face from view for a moment. Clarke feels the brunette grinning ear to ear against her shoulder. She knows that after all these weeks, it still makes Lexa feel wanted when their friends include her without a second thought. Clarke herself smiles as Bellamy waits expectantly.

“We’re having dinner with them tonight at Olive Garden. I’m sure we could convince them,” she assures, and he grins, content with her answer. As if on cue, the phone in Clarke’s pocket buzzes twice. Lexa reaches into the loose basketball shorts and pulls it out, not bothering to ask for permission first.

“Come home and put on some decent clothes, girls. Olive Garden awaits us,” Lexa reads aloud. Clarke grins. Of course her mother would address them both, knowing they’d both be looking at the phone.

“Save me some breadsticks?” Raven asks tiredly from the floor. Her voice is muffled as her head is buried against Octavia’s thigh, and the smaller brunette rolls her eyes. Though they’ve been best friends for years, they act as though they hate each other half the time. It’s all in good fun, though - Clarke knows that they’d drop everything for each other in a second.

“I don’t think those are going to last until Monday,” Lexa offers. Raven groans in displeasure, eliciting chuckles from the Blake siblings. Clarke stands reluctantly, her body already missing the heat of Lexa pressed against her, and holds her hand out to her girlfriend. Lexa takes it and pulls herself up. Clarke is momentarily proud of the fact that she didn’t even stumble from the weight pulling her forward, but her attention is quickly diverted by a hand grasping at her ankle. 

She almost lets out a squeak, but suppresses it. The hand is as close to a goodbye as they’re going to get from Raven. Octavia, however, is having none of it. She reaches her arms out and raises an eyebrow, warning Clarke that she’d better not leave without a hug goodbye. Clarke complies, then Lexa. Bellamy wordlessly asks for the same and receives hugs, too.

“Text us when you find out the answer!” he calls as they head for the door. Lexa replies with an agreement, and they head out on the decently short trek from the Blake house to the Griffin house.

\--

“This is the best alfredo I’ve ever had. Ever,” Lexa says, practically moaning in delight at the taste of the cheesy sauce hitting her tongue. Clarke feels her cheeks heat at the sound, but she scolds herself and takes a sip of water to distract herself. She can’t blame Lexa, however...something about the dish is exceptionally good today. She takes her own second bite and melts, leaning back against the chair in bliss.

“You two are ridiculous,” Gustus teases, the smallest of smiles playing at his lips. In the few times that they’ve spent time together, Clarke has quickly realized that he’s not as rough as he looks. He has a quite charming smile that actually puts the blonde at ease when she sees it. 

Lexa rolls her eyes at her father’s words and licks her lips, ridding them of the leftover sauce that had been there before. She takes a sip of water afterward, then clears her throat.

“So...we have a question,” she says. Abby and Gustus both look up from their plates, but don’t cease to eat. The lasagna they both ordered looks too good to deny, anyway.

“No, you can’t move in together yet,” Abby teases. There’s a smirk on her lips that Clarke can’t help but roll her eyes at, but she can’t ignore the flutter in her chest at the thought. She and Lexa may not have been together for more than a few months, but years of pining and wishing has made the short time feel like a lifetime. Moving in together already sounds like a dream come true.

“Har har har,” Clarke replies, diverting her thoughts away from the idea. “Actually...Bell invited us on a beach house trip.”

Abby doesn’t respond at first, but she doesn’t pause either. Clarke takes this as a good thing. If she knows her mother, she knows that the older woman is simply thinking.

“When, where, how long?” she asks.

“Monday through Friday, and we’ll be home by noon on Friday. Four days, three nights,” Lexa begins. “At the beach that’s only like an hour and half away from here.”

“It’s for Octavia’s birthday, and she’d just  _ hate  _ to not have all of her friends…”

“Yes,” Abby and Gustus agree simultaneously. They hardly even look up from their food.

Clarke doesn’t try to suppress the excited squeal that escapes her lips at the agreement. Lexa grins wide, and they both spew out thank you after thank you to their parents. Abby and Gustus simply chuckle and brush them off, but Clarke doesn’t miss the smiles on their faces.

\--

The following day is the first day in the entire summer that their group of friends hasn’t seen each other. In fact, the only people in the group who do see each other are Octavia and Bellamy, because they don’t really have a choice in the matter. The day is spent with family and packing, and Clarke doesn’t mind at all. They’ll be together day in and day out for nearly a week - the break will certainly be appreciated as that week comes to a close, she’s sure.

When the alarm goes off early the next morning, somewhere around six, the blonde lets out an annoyed groan. She knew at one that morning that she had to wake up in five hours, but that still didn’t stop her from staying up that late. She’s about to get out of bed when the phone on the nightstand buzzes. Messages begin to come through the group chat.

**Bell Bottom Jeans:** _ yeah fuck this, we’re not leaving until like noon _

**Lexa T-Rexa:** _ there is a god _

**Nevermore:** _ if anyone texts me before 9 am they die _

Clarke chuckles tiredly. She wasn’t sure what Bellamy wanted to leave so early in the first place, but she’s grateful he’s seen the light. 

Her fingers are moving before she knows what’s happening, but the familiar woosh of a sent messages rings in her ears. She looks at the screen in focus now and realizes who she’s messaged.

**Ai Kwin:** _ the ac is cranked come warm me up _

**Ai Niron:** _ mkkay _

She’s almost back to sleep when the message comes through. Judging by the way Lexa’s reply is short and has a typo, the brunette is barely awake herself. She decides that no response is warranted and places the phone back onto the nightstand, but not after setting another alarm for nine.

She can hardly say she’s surprised when just a short while later, her bedroom door opens and closes with a quiet click. The covers move, letting the cool air beneath them, but the sensation is quickly made up for by the feeling of strong arms wrapping around her.

“It’s six thirty, Lex,” Clarke murmurs, her words hardly forming through tired lips.

“You were cold,” the brunette replies, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Words are at the tip of Clarke’s tongue, but sleep takes her in before she can respond.

\--

“Why did I get struck driving?” Raven asks, easing her foot onto the brakes. They’re at a stoplight about halfway through the drive. She, Octavia, Lexa, and Clarke are in one car while the boys are in Bellamy’s Jeep. It’s actually only just now noon, as they decided to leave just a tad earlier since everyone was ready in the first place.

“It’s your car, ya dumb,” Octavia says absently. She’s poring over her book quietly, her eyes studying every word. Clarke leans down just enough to see the cover, and grins as she realizes the brunette finally took her advice about reading the book she recommended, “Looking For Alaska.”

“Did you find Alaska yet?” the blonde asks, raising her voice slightly over the roar of the tires on the road. The side of Octavia’s cheek pushes out in a grin, and she nods.

“I’m close to the page,” she says. Clarke sighs. The only hint that the blonde had given about the book was that it took just one page to destroy her heart. Clearly, the only option Octavia had was to read the book, rather than save herself the pain.

Clarke looks across the seat to find Lexa staring out the window, her fingers moving in absent patterns over Clarke’s ankles from where they rest in her lap. The brunette isn’t upset - Clarke’s learned the difference by now. She’s simply enjoying a bit of silence for herself and admiring the view out of the glass panes. As the light turns green, the buildings lining the streets of a small Californian town rush by in a blur. 

Clarke decides to leave her girlfriend to her silent observation and pulls out her phone. It’s still on a full charge, and she’s luckily got her charger. If Lexa hadn’t thrown the cord into her own bag at the last minute, suddenly remembering that it hadn’t been packed, Clarke would be stretching this battery to the very limits.

She unravels the earbuds around the phone and places one in her left ear, so that she could hear Lexa if she wanted anything. Her fingers move without thought as they click on a song, and she closes her eyes as she leans back to listen to the flowing piano melodies.

“You called me out and taught me tough   
With love, with love   
You fought my flaws, my teeth, my claws   
With love, with love.”

Her heart aches for a moment. A week after her incident, Clarke’s favorite musician had been shot and killed on the opposite side of the country. It’s been about three weeks since then, now, but it still doesn’t feel right. Still, the music is a rather comforting reminder of what beauty there was rather than what was lost. She lets out a long sigh as the chorus begins.

A soft sniffle comes from the front seat, and one eye cracks open. Octavia is staring down at the book, seemingly a few pages after “the” page. Her eyes are darting from word to word, and they’re full to the brim with tears. Raven reaches her free hand out wordlessly and takes Octavia’s in it, and the younger brunette accepts without question. Clarke closes her eye again, noting that she really needs to bring this up at some point with the two of them, and soon finds herself drifting into a state somewhere between dreams and reality. Still, Lexa’s fingers continue to trace entrancing patterns, reminding her of the reality she’s coming to love.

\--

They arrive at the beach house around two thirty, considering that they made a quick stop for lunch and got a bit lost trying to find their way back onto the highway. All mishaps are long forgotten, however, as soon as the house comes into view.

It’s gorgeous. Clarke can see the white sand of the beach as soon as they pull into the back area of the house. The building is medium sized, just one story. The back is made from a light grey painted wood, and as they get out and round the corner to see it from the front, Clarke’s jaw nearly drops. The small living area in the front of the house is enclosed only by glass walls, and the interior, filled with light and festive colors, is absolutely beautiful. There’s a full kitchen and living room, flat screen and several couches and all. The best part, Clarke thinks, is the hot tub that’s just outside on the deck. 

They’re at Clarke’s favorite type of beach. Instead of a simple vast mass of sand leading out to the water, the area is surrounded by hills and rocks for miles along the shore. She sees what Bellamy means by private and public. The house is the only house on this end of the beach, and there’s a clear line created by the rocks that divides the public and private beaches. They’re at a vantage point where Clarke can see over the divide, and the beach is crowded but not swarming with people. It’s the perfect day, too; not overly hot and a gentle breeze. Each deep breath brings in the scent of the ocean mist, and Clarke could practically melt in happiness.

“Bellamy,” Octavia says, her book closed and held tightly to her side. Her eyes don't leave the ocean before her.

“Yes?”

“Remember that time I said you were an asshole for forgetting my birthday?”

“Quite clearly.”

“You're not,” Octavia finishes. Raven snorts and gently pries the nearly finished book from her hands. 

It takes until three to finish unloading everything and picking rooms. Since it is indeed Octavia’s birthday, she chose her room first. She decided on a room with Raven, and Raven only. Monty decided to be kind and let Lexa choose next, and the obvious choice was a room with just Clarke right next door to Raven and Octavia. This left just one room for the three boys, but with the largest bed.

“You're lucky we love you,” Jasper mutters as he surveys the area. There's enough space for three, but they'll get very personal. Clarke grins triumphantly and spins on her heels, following the other girls back to the living room.

The sun shines in through the glass, illuminating the entire space. Raven is in the kitchen opening the refrigerator and freezer doors, and Clarke raises her eyebrows at what’s inside.

The refrigerator is packed with healthy food and seemingly infinite six packs of the best alcoholic beverages they’d all come to enjoy. The freezer is full of frozen meat and a few rather unhealthy creamy treats. As Octavia opens up the cabinets, she reveals boxes of pancake mix, soup, and things of the like. Between the seven of them, it’s enough to last for at least the majority of their time in the house. 

“Well, looks like we’re covered,” Lexa marvels, eyes scanning the sight before her. Clarke chuckles to herself and leans back into the brunette’s embrace as arms snake around her middle.

It takes about a minute or two after that for the seven of them to decide that swimming is definitely in order, ten minutes after that to change, ten minutes to get around all of their supplies, and two minutes for them to reach the public beach.

Luckily, the place is not infested with kids. The youngest child that Clarke sees there has to be at least thirteen, and she decides that he’s not too annoying after all.

Bellamy, Jasper, and Monty run out into the water the moment after they all set their towels down in the sand. They’re rather loud, Clarke realizes, and it makes the blonde notice that they’re acting more immaturely than the younger children on the rest of the beach. Clarke simply sighs in acceptance and turns to the girls standing behind her.

Their towels are around their necks, and they each hold different items. Lexa is carrying a small cooler with bottles of water in them in case they stay at the beach for a long time. Octavia’s brought out 110 SPF sunscreen just to make life easier, and Clarke smiles as she sees that it’s even the kind with aloe in it. Raven has gathered everyone’s sunglasses, all hanging from her fingers in a rainbow of colors. 

Clarke herself is carrying a second cooler with fruit cups that they’d thrown together just before heading out. The watermelon in it is enticing, but the idea of swimming is even more enticing. 

They place their towels and various items down in the sand next to the boys’ towels, and the afternoon sun is broiling against their skin. 

“We should really put sunscreen on,” Octavia says, voicing Clarke’s thoughts. They reach for the bottles of sunscreen in the sand and spray each other down, being sure to coat each part of their exposed skin.

“Aren’t we supposed to wait a while before getting in the water to let it sink in?” Raven asks, setting out her towel. She’s grabbed her sunglasses from the pile, and they match perfectly with her deep purple bikini.

“Pretty sure,” Lexa agrees.

And so they do. They lay out their towels and switch between lying down and sitting up for a solid twenty minutes, waiting for the protectant to settle into their skin. The boys are just barely on the horizon, swimming against the waves. Clarke chuckles as she realizes how burnt they might get, but knows it's their own fault if they do. Though they put sunscreen on before they left the house, there’s no telling whether it’s actually sept into their skin or not.

Lexa stays sitting up for a long period of time, and Clarke is lying at an angle where she can see the brunette’s eyes moving around. Back and forth, from person to person. She would think the brunette was simply people watching, but there’s a small frown tugging at her lips that tells her otherwise.

“Alright, this is long enough. If I burn I burn. Come on y’all!” Raven exclaims, leaping up. She nearly stumbles backward into the hot sand, but Octavia catches her by the arm and keeps her steady. 

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Clarke says, grinning. The brunettes share a glance, but decide not to question. They tear off through the sand, zigzagging through people until they reach the ocean. The water must be a bit chilly, for Clarke can hear their little shrieks from several feet away.

The blonde turns her attention to Lexa, who still has not moved. Her eyes dart back and forth still.

“I see those wheels turning.”

Lexa grins halfheartedly. “Shit. You caught me.”

Clarke pulls herself up so that she’s sitting next to Lexa, and for a moment, she merely sits there in silence and looks around as well.

It’s not until she catches a girl their own age adjusting her top that Clarke realizes.

“What’s the word?” she asks quietly, turning to Lexa. It gives her eyes a bit of a break against the harsh sun, and she relaxes her face slightly as she waits for her girlfriend to answer.

“Dysphoria,” Lexa answers. She gives that halfhearted smile again and lets out a sigh. “Or, for me, being painfully aware of what my body is and isn’t compared to real girls.”

“You are a real girl,” Clarke says immediately, her voice stern but sincere. “The most beautiful woman I know, no exaggeration.”

“But like...Alex Vause,” Lexa kids, turning slightly to face Clarke. She groans against the glare of the sun and opts to turn her head back again, but Clarke doesn’t mind. “Girl got curves.”

“If Alex Vause is a prisoner, then I plead guilty,” Clarke agrees, chuckling. She waits for the slap on her shoulder, but she doesn’t receive it. She’s silently grateful that Lexa doesn’t mind the banter. “But she’s got nothing on you.”

“A couple of bra sizes and hips, actually,” Lexa replies. Her grin falters a bit, but still, it stays. Clarke reaches out and intertwines their pinkie fingers, and the brunette sighs before speaking again. “And look at all these girls. Their boobs won’t even fit in their tops.”

Clarke doesn’t know what words to use to comfort Lexa, so she decides not to speak. Instead, she leans over and presses her lips gently to the brunette’s temple. Lexa leans into her without hesitation and sighs. Beneath the sunglasses, Clarke catches her eyes flitting down to look at her own chest.

A thought crosses the blonde’s mind, and she sighs. This could either go wonderfully or awfully. Only one way to find out which.

“Well I quite like yours the best,” Clarke whispers. She feels her cheeks heat up as soon as the words leave her lips.

Lexa giggles, an adorable high pitched giggle, and Clarke thinks she’s going to melt at the sound. The brunette leans into Clarke’s shoulder and buries her face in the blonde’s neck, her giggles settling.

There’s a beat of silence, and Clarke lets it be. 

“Want to go swimming now?” Lexa asks, her voice quiet. Clarke smiles and nods softly, careful not to hit the brunette’s head too hard in the process.

The two of them stand up, using each other’s body weight to pull themselves up. They discard their sunglasses in the pile, and Clarke grins as she places Raven’s carelessly tossed pair with the rest of them. 

Hand in hand, they run off toward the water. It’s about as close to a Netflix romance movie as they possibly could have gotten, but Clarke doesn’t mind. She’ll play this role as long as she’s able.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this one...but as usual, thank you for so many kudos and kind words! This is what inspires me to keep writing, and it's a pleasure to write this story.

The first couple of days pass quickly, their hours spent seaside or lounging in the comfortable living space inside the beach home. They take advantage of their own private beach area on the first night, when the moon is high and the stars are lighting up the sky. Clarke’s wish comes true, and they find a cave-like area in the rocks surrounding their beach. Clarke smiles as the memory flits through her mind.

\--

_ “DUDES. You gotta see this!” _

_ Clarke twists around to find Jasper motioning toward them from a few feet away. It’s dark, and the only light is that of the stars and moon, but it’s enough that they can make out each others’ figures in the darkness. Clarke turns to her left and finds Lexa treading water next to her, her hair flowing beautifully down her back. They nod simply and swim toward Jasper, the others close behind.  _

_ What Jasper found is all that Clarke could have imagined out of a beach with rocky cliffs. Jasper is shining his diving flashlight into what appears to be a small cave. The water of the ocean leads inside it, and in the light of the flashlight, Clarke can see that there appears to be a rather large platform at the back of the cave, perfect for crawling up onto after swimming a long time. _

_ Clarke wastes no time. She hardly waits for Lexa as she swims forward at top speed. It takes less effort than she expects for her to pull herself onto the cave floor, and she scoots to the edge to make room for the others. One by one, the seven friends crawl up onto the cave floor, their feet soaking still in the ocean water.  _

_ They sit there in tranquil silence, the light of the moon pouring into the cave. Clarke can make out the stars, and she’s almost certain she can see a constellation. It’s a beautiful sight, really, and as Lexa intertwines their fingers in silence, Clarke wishes that she could paint it. She makes a note to remember this image and paint it when they get home. _

_ “Happy birthday, O,” Bellamy says quietly, his voice calm. Clarke’s eyes fall shut and for once in her life, she feels completely and utterly at ease. _

_ “Thank you, Bell,” Octavia replies. Clarke turns to the brunette next to Lexa to see a small, content smile tugging at the corner of her lips. _

\--

Now, it’s nearing ten thirty at night and they’ve decided to use the fire pit in the sand on the private part of the beach. It took a few tries, but the flame finally arose. The night air isn’t frigid, but it’s got a slight chill to it. The heat of the fire warms Clarke’s extremities. It’s a good thing, too; the guitar in her lap would be practically unplayable if her fingers were frozen and stiff.

It really is like a movie, this trip. The seven of them are surrounding the fire in a circle, each sipping on a drink. They’ve all got quite a few; tonight is a night where they intend to be drunk. Clarke and Bellamy each have a guitar in their laps. Clarke’s is her father’s navy blue six string acoustic, the one her mother passed on to her after he passed. Bellamy’s is the one that Aurora bought him for his tenth birthday. It’s a typical wooden acoustic guitar, but his name is engraved in the body of it. He strums absently at the strings as he stares, glossy-eyed, into the flame.

“Any requests?” Clarke asks quietly, sitting her Smirnoff in the cupholder of the lawn chair. She licks her lips, relishing in the watermelon flavor that never seems to get old.

“You know the song I Found by Amber Run?” Lexa asks. Clarke turns her head, and she has to remind herself to breathe. The brunette’s emerald green eyes are brighter in the light of the flame, and the reflection of the dancing flame makes them seem even more intimidating. Her sharp features are accentuated in this light, the shadows on her face perfectly bringing out her cheekbones and chiseled jaw. 

Clarke clears her throat and nods, her fingers fumbling for the chords. Her eyes don’t leave Lexa, however, and she catches Monty grinning knowingly. All it takes is one glare shot his direction, and he raises his hands subtly in mock surrender. Clarke allows a small smile as she fingers through the chords.

Once she’s settled, and it appears Bellamy is, too, she looks up at the curly haired boy, clad in his glasses once again, and raises an eyebrow.

“You play the fancy stuff, I’ll play base chords?”

He nods.

“Do you guys know these harmonies?” Octavia asks, looking around. They agree, even if halfheartedly. 

Wordlessly, Clarke and Bellamy begin to play. Clarke leans forward slightly in her seat, bracing the guitar so that she doesn’t have to worry about it falling. Her eyes move upward from the fretboard and stare into the fire. The light is bright, but not blinding. 

“And I'll use you as a warning sign   
That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind   
And I'll use you as a focal point   
So I don't lose sight of what I want.”

The harmonies are beautiful, even if slightly off key, and they bring a rush of warmth to Clarke’s chest. As the next verse continues, she directs her hearing to the woman sitting next to her, turning her head to see her.

Lexa’s voice is rough and gravely, much like Clarke’s own. They both sing the melody, and it sounds as though Lexa dips down into the low harmony every now and then. The deeper the brunette’s voice goes, the harder it gets for Clarke to focus on her playing. She fumbles over a chord or two, but no one seems to notice too much. Lexa smirks slightly, and Clarke fights the urge to roll her eyes in response. She turns back to the fire, which is beginning to die down, but only just.

That’s how the majority of the rest of the time that the fire is ablaze goes. They sing a few more calm songs, even daring to delve into such sad songs as ‘Say Something’ before the night is out. It’s calming and peaceful, and as the last chord rings out, Clarke feels the fuzziness in her head finally clear. It’s a rare feeling, one only achieved ever so often (more so with Lexa, now), and she appreciates it while it’s here. She never knows how long it will last.

As the last few drops of her third drink slip down her throat, however, a new and familiar fuzziness clouds her brain. It’s different, and more inviting. 

“You guys want to play Xbox?” Monty asks. He’s the most sober of them all, having only just finished his second drink. Jasper’s on his fifth, and he merely throws out a thumbs up in response. Bellamy chuckles, finishing the last bit of his fourth drink, and nods in agreement.

“You’re boring,” Octavia teases. “We’re going swimming.”

Clarke, Lexa, and Raven all turn to her at the same moment. As the boys collect all of the empty bottles, volunteering to toss them away when they get inside, Bellamy raises an eyebrow.

“Is that so? This late?” he says. Octavia shoots him a glare, but he’s having none of it.

“Right. You’re a big girl now,” he replies, and Octavia grins, content with his answer. “Be back by midnight?”

“Blah blah, your sister your responsibility, yes we’ll be back by midnight,” Raven replies, standing to stretch her muscles. They surely ache; as Clarke stands, her back creaks and groans in protest from being sitting for so long. Clarke grimaces, and Lexa reaches over to rub small circles on the blonde’s back in comfort. 

“Want me to take your guitar in?” Bellamy asks, holding out his empty hand. His guitar is strung across his back, giving him an oddly country look. It suits him.

Clarke wants to say yes, she really does. Three years later, it shouldn’t be so difficult to let someone else touch that guitar. But, when she hesitates, Bellamy simply gives a half smile and nods. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezes it slightly before walking past her to gather the last of the bottles. Clarke breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Bring us towels!” Lexa calls as the blonde heads toward the house. Clarke simply flashes a thumbs up in response.

She walks into her and Lexa’s room and flips on the overhead light, groaning at the sudden brightness. With utmost care, she places the guitar back in it’s case and zips it, her fingers lingering on the zipper a bit longer than necessary. Her eyes graze over the frayed seams of the black case for a moment before she sighs, then places it against the wall in the corner of her room. Placing her hands on her thighs, she pushes herself upward. 

The tipsiness is starting to set in, but she’s only that; tipsy. She flips off the light and heads toward the closest bathroom, where Monty is walking out already in his Walking Dead pajamas. Clarke can’t help but to grin and roll her eyes as she steps inside. The towels she’s searching for are all hanging to dry over the shower rod. Clarke palms them gently, seeking to find if they’ve dried or not. They’re only just damp in the middle, and the blonde decides that’ll have to do. She pulls them all off the shower rod in one swift move, almost knocking her over. She keeps her balance, however, and heads out toward the living space once again.

“Make good choices,” Bellamy calls from where he’s sprawled out on the couch, controller in hand. His eyes are glued to the screen already.

“Yes sir,” Clarke calls as she steps out the door.

Lexa, Raven, and Octavia have already taken off their outer clothes, and it hits Clarke then that they haven’t brought out their swimsuits.

“Are we just going to walk back in wearing soaking wet underwear?” she asks as she approaches them. She places their towels respectively by their clothes, placing her own towel on the ground next to Lexa’s pile. She begins stripping off her tank and shorts, left in only a sports bra and panties. Lexa hands her one of the water bottles that had been left behind by the boys, and Clarke takes it, deciding that morning Clarke would thank her.

“Good point,” Raven says. “Skinnydipping it is.”

It’s comical how staged it all looks. Shocking comment, spit take. But, Clarke can’t help it. She nearly chokes on the water she’d been gulping down at the idea Raven presents, and some of it sprays from her lips as she tries to swallow properly. Lexa snorts, her hand flying up to her face to hide her grin. Clarke glares as she coughs a few more times, trying to clear the tickle from the back of her throat.

“Just like that? No questions asked?” the blonde inquires, putting the bottle down. She decides it best not to mess with it for now.

“Don’t get all chicken on me now, Princess,” Raven replies, and Clarke grimaces at the old nickname. She hasn’t heard it in years. The brunette really is quite tipsy, but not enough to be dangerous.

Clarke looks to her left, seeking out Lexa’s reaction.  The initial amusement that she’d had at Clarke’s spit take has dissipated, leaving her with pursed lips and darting eyes. She looks down at the ground, averting eye contact with anyone.

“Oh shit, Lex, you don’t…” Raven begins. Lexa simply holds up on hand, effectively quieting the shorter girl. Clarke raises an eyebrow in surprise.

Lexa lets her eyes fall shut for a moment before she takes in a deep breath of air. She holds it for a moment and brings her head up, then opens her eyes as the air slips past her lips.

“It’s vacation, right?” she says, forcing a small smile onto her face. Octavia and Raven both grin, seemingly buying the response. 

“Hey, I haven’t said yes yet,” Clarke says. She and Lexa meet eyes, and the brunette nods so slightly that it’s only perceptible to her. Silent thanks are exchanged between them.

Raven lets out a groan and rolls her eyes, spinning on her heels and throwing her head back in feigned annoyance. Octavia crosses her arms and taps on her wrist, and Clarke sticks her tongue out tauntingly at the girl. She catches Octavia biting her cheek in an attempt to hide her smile.

Clarke takes Lexa by the arm and pulls her away, nearly to the edge of their private beach area. The public beach has been closed since dusk, but still, Clarke is certain not to cross that line in fear that any rule breakers may overhear.

Once the blonde is satisfied with their position, she lets go of Lexa and stands in front of her. The brunette avoids her eyes for a moment, but finally gives in. She sighs as she looks up, and green crashes into blue.

“Lex, you don’t have to,” Clarke says. She reaches instinctively to take the brunette’s hand, and Lexa doesn’t protest. Instead, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, pondering her options.

“They made it seem like it was no big deal, right?” she says, looking to Clarke almost as if for approval. Clarke nods slowly.

“And they won’t see me in the water,” Lexa continues. Clarke nods, running her thumb across the back of her girlfriend’s palm. “And it’s really dark.”

The brunette is stumbling over her words a little bit, and even through Clarke’s tipsiness, she knows what Lexa is doing. She’s trying to convince herself that it’s okay, because she desperately wants to just feel normal. She wants to do what the normal girls do.

“And it’s always been on my bucket list,” the brunette explains, a real smile coming to her lips. The sight causes Clarke to breathe a sigh of relief. Her biggest fear was that the brunette was going to force herself into something she didn’t want to do, but that real smile seems to put those fears at ease, at least a little.

“Do you really want to, Lex?” she asks. She knows she’s asked three or four times now, but she can’t help it.

“Do you think that…” Lexa begins, then pauses. She furrows her brow. “Do you think we could just...just close our eyes until we get into the water?”

Clarke grins. Nervous, timid Lexa is oddly sweet. Clarke feels a strange surge of pride at the brunette finally beginning to push herself out of her fears and really live. The best part of it all is that Lexa seems to really want to.

“Of course. I’ll say it was my idea,” Clarke assures, gently elbowing Lexa’s arm. Lexa grins, and the glint in her eye as it catches the moonlight makes Clarke’s heart flutter. She takes a deep breath to rein herself in. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” Lexa says. The words send a strangely good ache into Clarke’s chest. If only the brunette knew that she was the lifesaver, not Clarke. Perhaps, the blonde considers, they are both lifesavers in different ways.

“I know, I’m pretty great,” Clarke replies, repressing the sudden surge of emotion. She earns a slap on the shoulder as they turn and head back to Raven and Octavia, who’re both standing with their arms crossed and hips jutted in impatience. For a moment they simply stand there expectantly.

“She convinced me,” Clarke says finally. Octavia squees in excitement and claps her hands, and Raven rolls her eyes but can’t even bite back the grin on her face. Lexa simply chuckles and closes her eyes.

“But, we have to wait until we’re all in the water to open our eyes, okay? For me?” Clarke requests quickly. Octavia and Raven both flash a thumbs up absently before pulling at their clothes.

Clarke follows suit, tugging off her final layer quickly. She feels around blindly to make sure she places it in the right spot, and immediately heads out into the water. It’s much colder than she expects, and she fights back shivers as she swims out so that she’s covered from shoulders down.

“Are we all in?” Octavia asks, her voice raised higher than necessary. Someone shushes her, and Clarke doesn’t have to guess to know that it’s Raven. She whispers her next words. “You gotta say your group chat name so I know it’s you.”

Clarke snorts. Drunk Octavia is a gift.

“Nevermore.”

“Lexa T-Rexa.”

“Gryffindor.”

“Okay, open your eyes!”

They do. Clarke looks around. All that’s visible of each person is their bare shoulders and up. Lexa must have already dunked her head beneath the water, for her hair is matted to the sides of her face. Still, she looks positively gorgeous. 

“Come on!” Octavia says. She turns around in the water and begins to swim, revealing the backs of her calves and lower thighs. She moves quickly through the water, effortlessly almost, and it reminds Clarke of a mermaid. She chuckles at the thought of Octavia in a sea shell bra.

Clarke, Raven, and Lexa follow the now-eighteen-year-old into the night, the cool air against wet skin leaving goosebumps all over their bodies. It’s strange to feel the water rushing past every part of them, but Clarke doesn’t mind. It’s freeing. She understands suddenly why it’s on everyone’s bucket list, after all.

It doesn’t take long before Clarke realizes where Octavia is leading them. The small cave that was found the day before comes into view, the insides just barely illuminated by the light of the moon and stars. It’s later now than it was when they first found it, but it’s only a bit darker.

They swim in silence into the cave, and it only takes a few moments of blind fumbling to grasp the edge on which they sat the night before. They don’t pull themselves up, despite the fact that the back of the cave is pitch black. Instead, they use it to give their legs a rest, keeping themselves up from sinking using the muscles of their arms. 

“It’s really nice out here,” Octavia says, just barely above a whisper. Normally Clarke would have teased her for whispering when there was no one but them to hear, but now, she does not. Such tranquility and beauty seems to deserve silence; to speak feels like a disturbance.

“And really pretty,” Lexa replies. Her voice is soft, the kind of gentle that Clarke melts over. The blonde reaches out carefully until she connects with Lexa’s shoulder. Her hand traces up the brunette’s jaw until she can find the stray bits of hair sticking to the side of Lexa’s face. Clarke pushes the strands behind Lexa’s ear, earning a gentle kiss to the back of her palm. 

“Like someone I know,” Raven says, breaking the few moments of silence. Octavia starts giggling, but she shushes herself, still trying to be quiet. Though no one can see her expression, Clarke still feels herself raising an eyebrow in inquiry. Lexa hums in curiosity at the pair next to them.

“Shush, Rae,” Octavia says. Her voice is timid, now, but not in the way it once was. This is a different kind of timid that Clarke hasn’t heard for months now. She grins knowingly, but decides not to say anything.

The cave protects against the cool winds, but the air still has a chill to it even so. The goosebumps on their skin seem to multiply the longer they stay in the water. Still, they stay silent.

“Okay, it’s really cold,” Octavia says, dragging out the ‘really’ in emphasis. They break into a quiet fit of giggles.

“I was waiting for you to speak up. I’m freezing,” Lexa admits. Clarke can feel her shivering slightly, and she instinctively runs her free hand up and down the brunette’s shoulder. It makes small splashes every time Clarke’s hand touches the surface of the water, but she still gets the desired effect. The goosebumps on Lexa’s skin disappear, even if for a moment.

“Let’s go inside,” Raven suggests, and no one has to be asked twice. They take off swimming again, and head directly back to the shore.

It takes several minutes of fumbling and blind reaching, but they finally manage to dry their bodies and put on their clothes without ever opening their eyes. They’ve done a fairly good job of it, too; even while being tipsy and blind, they still managed to get most of the articles on correctly. Clarke’s fairly certain that Lexa’s shorts are both inside out and backwards, but she lets it slide. Instead, she bites her cheek to keep from grinning as they head up the small hill toward the house. 

Through the glass panes surrounding the kitchen and living area, Clarke can see that the boys are nowhere near finished playing video games. There’s at least three bags of chips and five cans of pop sitting on the coffee table, and the boys are strewn across the living room randomly. Bellamy hasn’t moved from his place on the couch, Jasper is sitting behind his legs, and Monty is laying on his back on the floor, his head contorted to see the screen. Sounds of gunfire and game dialogue hit Clarke’s ears as soon as they walk into the house.

“That was quick,” Bellamy says, not bothering to look up. He scrunches his nose in annoyance when Jasper comes out of nowhere and shoots him, putting him behind in score.

“It’s cold,” Octavia replies. Jasper and Monty smile, but say nothing.

“We’re going to bed. Goodnight guys,” Raven says. Clarke and Lexa echo something of the same and head into their rooms to gather their toiletries.

Of course, Octavia and Raven chose the room with the built in bathroom, leaving the boys and Clarke and Lexa to share the other one. Clarke is grateful that she and Lexa are heading to bed before the boys, because a mad rush for one bathroom between five people is not a thought that particularly interests the blonde. They’d only avoided it because the boys slept and rose at godawfully late times, leaving the people on a fairly normal sleep schedule free access to the small bathroom.

Wordlessly, Clarke and Lexa brush their teeth and wash their face, sharing the sink. Clarke chuckles as she notices toothpaste still gathered at the corner of her lover’s mouth, but decides against telling her. To her disappointment, it doesn’t take long for Lexa to notice and she wipes it away as she washes her face. 

“Remind me to get in her and shave before the boys again tomorrow morning,” the brunette says, palming at her face. Clarke nods as they make eye contact in the mirror.

They make their way back to their room fairly quickly afterward, immediately stripping down to just their underwear. It’s become so habitual now that Clarke can’t imagine sleeping with an actual shirt or pair of shorts on at night. The unmade bed is easy to slide into, and Lexa pulls the sage green sheets over their half bare bodies, shielding them from the cool air conditioned air.

Clarke instinctively wraps herself around Lexa, knowing full well that the likelihood of them waking up in the same position is slim to none. She throws an arm and a leg across the brunette’s body, then buries her face in Lexa’s neck. Her tired eyes fall shut, the tipsiness from their drinks making it even harder to keep them open.

They’re almost asleep when Lexa suddenly speaks.

“How did Abby know I’m trans?”

There’s an amused lilt to the brunette’s voice that tells Clarke she isn’t upset. Once she realizes that Lexa isn’t mad, a cheesy grin pulls at her lips as she remembers just how Abby had found out.

“I, um...may have written a poem about you and she may have found it,” Clarke admits, feeling her cheeks heat up. It was nothing to be ashamed of in the slightest...it was beautiful. The blonde couldn’t stop thinking about how even the things Lexa hated were beautiful and how the brunette amazed her every day. The words came to her without much thought as she sat on the couch one night, and she had forgotten to take her notebook back upstairs with her.

Lexa hums appreciatively, and Clarke can feel her sleepy smile.

“What might this hypothetical poem have said?” Lexa asks, emphasizing the words ‘might’ and ‘hypothetical.’ Clarke chuckles and swats at the girl’s shoulder, missing it as her fingers brushed against the sheets.

“It might have said that everything you hate about yourself is everything I love,” Clarke replies. Her voice goes quieter as she gets closer to the end of her confession. 

Lexa smiles again, but gentler. 

“Well,  _ hypothetically, _ ” she teases, though her words don’t hold the same conviction as they did before, “that’s the kindest thing anyone has ever said about me.”

Clarke’s lips latch themselves softly to Lexa’s collarbone, a place she’s come to love. They linger only for a moment before carefully pulling away.

Sleep beckons now, and it’s getting more and more difficult to stay awake. 

“Sleep tight,” Clarke whispers. It’s childish, but she doesn’t care.

“Mm,” is all she gets in response. The last thing the blonde remembers before sleep overtakes her is her lips curling into an exhausted smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a big one, and very special to me. It should be up by the end of tomorrow!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a long one!

Clarke and Lexa wake far too early the next morning, just as the sun is beginning to stream in through the windows. Clarke wakes first, and she watches as the sun rises. It illuminates the sky with strokes of red and orange, then yellow and blue as it gets later. Lexa sleeps soundly behind her, one arm still draped lazily over Clarke’s waist. 

Finally, at somewhere around six, Lexa stirs. She wakes with a little groan as she stretches her limbs, and Clarke can picture the distorted face behind her. She grins and settles back instinctively, allowing Lexa to pull her closer. Her eyes fall shut as lips press gently behind her ear. She tries to suppress the shudder that ripples through her body, but fails. Lexa’s laughter comes out as hot puffs against the back of her neck that make the blonde’s skin break out in goosebumps.

“Good morning,” Lexa says quietly. Her voice is husky and gravely, and the familiar scratch of stubble against Clarke’s skin is welcomed. She’s grown used to the tickle and has become quite fond of it, simply because it is completely and utterly Lexa. 

“Good morning,” the blonde echoes, her own voice deep and scratchy. Lexa grins lazily and lets her head fall further into the back of Clarke’s neck.

They lie there like that in silence for a few minutes, neither bothering to open their eyes. Surprisingly, sleep does not take them back. Though not alert, Clarke doesn’t feel exactly tired. She knows that will change when the night falls over them.

“What are we going to do until everyone else wakes up?” Lexa asks, breaking the silence. Clarke sighs, and her eyes flutter open. The sun is risen, now, and the light is harsh against her eyes. She squints until she adjusts to the sudden brightness.

“I’m not -”

Clarke is interrupted by three short knocks at the door, quiet as though the person is afraid to wake them. She turns in Lexa’s embrace and raises her eyebrow questioningly, but Lexa simply shrugs.

“Yeah?” Clarke calls out hesitantly. Her own voice is loud to her ears, and she winces at the volume.

“Come take a walk with us,” Raven says. It’s a command, really; even if they wanted to deny their request, it wouldn’t be an option.

“Hold on,” Lexa replies, a small smile tugging at her lips.

They roll out of bed almost reluctantly, only bothering with finding a pair of shorts. It’s not like there’s going to be anyone else awake anyway, and a sports bra is no different than a bathing suit top.

When they open the door, it seems they’ve all got the same idea. None of them have bothered with trying to even put their messy hair up, and they look like they’ve hardly slept a wink despite having gotten about seven hours of sleep. Clarke figures the darkness under their eyes will fade as they begin to wake up.

The back of Raven’s hair sticks up awkwardly, having dried that way from falling asleep on it while it was still wet. Clarke bites her cheeks, trying to hide her grin, but she fails miserably. Raven raises an eyebrow, and Clarke lets out a little giggle.

“Your hair looks like hell, Reyes,” she whispers, and Raven rolls her eyes.

“Come on before I uninvite you on this walk,” she mutters, stalking off toward the living area. Octavia snorts in amusement before following, with Clarke and Lexa close behind.

The walk is rather long, but peaceful. The beach doesn’t open until eight, so it’s completely silent outside save for the waves and the birds chirping and squawking. There seems to be no words said to fill the space, so no one speaks. It’s a kind of tranquility that Clarke is beginning to wish she could know more often. It’s nice for her heart to beat at a normal rate sometimes and for her hands to cease to shake.

By the time they get back, they’re surprised to find the boys already awake. It’s only just getting to be seven thirty or so, and Clarke imagines they truly haven’t slept hardly a wink. Still, that doesn’t stop them from being cheerful.

Despite the early waking time, which Clarke expected to make the day feel incredibly long, the day actually passes quite quickly. They play beach volleyball (which Lexa is humorously terrible at), swim for hours on end, and Bell reveals his final surprise to Octavia: jetskis. They stay on those jetskis until the sun sets, and by the time the day ends, they’re absolutely physically exhausted. They also realize that they haven’t had lunch or dinner, having been too preoccupied with the rest of the day’s activities to even think about being hungry. The second they step inside the house, however, Clarke’s hunger hits her like a freight train. Her stomach rumbles loudly, voicing the thoughts of everyone in the room. 

They settle on a dinner of chicken tacos, various vegetables, and the juciest watermelon that Clarke has ever had. By the time they finish, they’re so stuffed that Clarke thinks she’ll be full until they get home for lunch the next the day.

To give their aching stomachs time to settle, they head outside and strike up the final fire of the trip. The sun is completely down, now, revealing the brightest moon and stars of the entire week. It’s a full moon, and as the heat of the fire warms Clarke’s cold extremities, she gets lost in the stars. She stares up at the balls of light and the moon, thousands of miles away, and the world around her falls hush for a moment.

“Ground control to Major Tom.”

Clarke startles, her heart jumping at the sudden voice pulling her out of her trance. Bellamy chuckles next to her, handing her a bottle of water. By some unspoken agreement, no one has touched the alcohol for the night.

“You know what we should do?” Jasper asks, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are lidded with exhaustion as he sinks into the chair, staring into the fire. There’s a small smile tugging at his lips, however, despite his tiredness.

“Hmm?” Raven hums as she sips on her own water. 

“We should each say one thing that at least two people in this group don’t know about us, that way it’s at least kind of a surprise,” Jasper suggests. Clarke grins slightly, and she’s fairly certain she can hear Lexa snort. How opportune.

“Who’s going first?” Monty asks. 

There’s a beat, but Bellamy speaks.

“I will,” he offers. He screws the cap onto his water and licks his lips as he places the bottle back into the cupholder. He leans forward on his knees, rubbing his palms together slowly in the heat of the flame. Silence falls over the group as they wait for him to speak.

“I’m thinking about joining the National Guard,” he says. “It’s a smaller job, but I can still do something, you know?”

Octavia grins. “I knew you were going to join the military. One way or another, I knew it.”

“We’ll make sure to schedule all the parties on the weekends that you’re working,” Monty teases, and Bellamy smiles and rolls his eyes. Still, Clarke can see that beneath his mask, he’s truly grateful for the support, albeit in an odd fashion.

“Who’s next?” he asks, looking around. Raven raises her hand like a student waiting to be called on, and Bellamy nods in her direction.

“Now, I know this is going to come as a big shock for all of you,” she says, holding her hand over her heart. Clarke chuckles. She’s fairly certain she knows where this is going, but she wants to hear Raven say it anyway. The brunette in questions clears her throat dramatically and straightens her back, clearly preparing herself.

“I, Raven Reyes,” she begins, “am gay.”

Lexa gasps, raising her eyebrows far too high and bringing her hand up to her mouth. She looks mockingly shocked, and Raven scoffs. 

“Gee, Rae, I just had NO idea,” Clarke says, eyes widening. “I could have never guessed from all those times you hit on me.”

That elicits laughter from the entirety of their group of friends, and they all lean back slightly in their chairs. 

“Well, you know we accept you exactly as you are,” Bellamy says. Their laughter dies down to simply content smiles and murmurs of agreement, and even Raven has a sincere smile on her face. Sincerity is not the brunette’s strong point, so seeing it is a blessing that Clarke takes while she can.

There’s just a beat of silence before Lexa speaks, taking the other three girls in the group by surprise.

“I’ve got a secret, too,” she says. Clarke can hear in her mind the joking retorts that Jasper might have come up with, telling her that they already knew she was gay, but the quietness in her voice silences everyone. It’s obvious to the boys that she’s serious. From the corner of Clarke’s eye, she catches Raven and Octavia smiling almost proudly as Lexa sits up taller in her seat.

“Fire away, Rex,” Bellamy says. Lexa chuckles nervously, and her eyes fall to her lap.

She takes a steadying breath, and Clarke can see the precise moment when Lexa becomes ready.

“I was born as a boy.”

Raven and Octavia’s smiles grow, and Clarke wants to smile, she does. But for the moment, she’s too occupied worrying about how the boys will react.

The three of them for a silent for a moment, and Clarke can’t read their expressions. The blonde’s heart thuds in her chest, and she can only imagine what Lexa is feeling. She’s just about to speak when Bellamy fills the silence for her.

“Well, Lexa,” he begins, looking over at Clarke, “your girlfriend may kill me for this, but you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.”

Clarke hears several people gasp softly in surprise at the boy’s incredibly kind words, including Lexa. It takes a moment for her to breathe, and when she does, she breaks into the most grateful and genuine grin Clarke thinks she’s seen in a while. 

“It’s brave of you to tell us that,” Monty says earnestly, his voice soft and caring. Lexa’s eyes shine now in the light of the fire, and finally, Clarke allows herself a smile.

“I...I don’t know what....” she stutters, fumbling for words. Jasper shushes her, and Clarke chuckles as Lexa breaks into another grin.

“Then make no sound,” Jasper says, quoting Les Miserables. It’s too perfect, really, that he should be quoting Lexa’s favorite musical.

They talk for a while, asking and answering questions. It’s incredible to Clarke to see the difference between the boys who were wrestling in the living room on the first night they arrived here and the boys who are sitting around the fire being so gentle with Lexa. Lexa nearly cries about six times in half an hour, but doesn’t. Still, no one misses the wateriness of her eyes as she receives nothing but love.

Clarke stays in nearly silent admiration of the girl sitting next to her, not daring to take her eyes off of her for more than a second. Her heart feels so full of love that it might burst, and there’s a rush in her chest so strong that even if she wanted to speak, she doesn’t think she could. 

Luckily, Lexa, saves her from having to try. As the questions die down and a comfortable quiet begins to settle over them, she turns to Clarke, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Want to head to bed?” she asks, and Clarke nods, grateful not to have to speak just yet. She takes a slow breath as subtly as she can, trying to calm her racing heart. This is an anxiousness that she doesn’t mind one bit.

“We’ll probably be close behind,” Raven says, nodding toward Octavia. The smaller brunette looks utterly exhausted, her eyes drooping as she leans back in her chair.

“Night guys,” Clarke manages as she stands. The rest of their friends echo the same in response, and they make their way up the small hill toward the house in silence. The whole time, Clarke’s legs wobble like jelly.

Lexa closes the bedroom door behind them slowly, and the click sounds oddly loud as it shuts. The brunette turns, her hands behind her back as she leans against the door for support. The only light in the room is that of the moonlight shining in through the window, but even then, Clarke can see the way Lexa trembles.

Despite all of the nervous energy bubbling just beneath the surface, she leans forward slowly, reaching her hand up to gently pull Lexa’s chin upward. Their lips meet softly, tentatively, and Clarke’s thumb brushes against the soft skin of Lexa’s cheek without thought. They both quiver and wobble where they stand. Lexa reaches forward and pulls Clarke to her, closing the space between them. As their lips part only for a moment before leaning in for another kiss, Clarke lets her body lean against Lexa’s, molding perfectly together. Lexa’s lips shake against Clarke’s, and the blonde wants nothing more to calm her. 

She reaches her hand up and carefully twists her fingers in Lexa’s hair, and the grip around her waist tightens. A little involuntary moan sounds in her throat at the sensation. Lexa exhales all at once, and when she breathes in, it’s shaky and ragged.

Clarke pulls back, just for a moment. The full moon helps to illuminate Lexa’s face, and for a moment, Clarke can’t breathe.

The brunette’s brows are furrowed with longing and fear, of what Clarke isn’t quite sure, and her eyes are wide with question. They shimmer with tears, and as Clarke’s looking at her, a single droplet streams down the brunette’s face. Clarke follows it down, her eyes scanning tanned, supple skin, until they reach Lexa’s lips. They’re parted, taking in no air, and they tremble almost uncontrollably.

As Clarke follows back up Lexa’s features to meet striking green eyes, she forgets for a moment what it’s like to breathe at all. Because here, standing in front of her, is Lexa. Lexa, who looks at her like she’s the one who put the stars in the sky. Lexa, who needs desperately for Clarke to give her validation and love, though she’s too stubborn to admit it. Lexa, who whispers promises of a house of their own by the water when it’s three in the morning and they’re both too happy to sleep. Lexa, who has her arm wrapped so tightly yet so gingerly around Clarke’s waist that the blonde couldn’t move if she tried, and she wouldn’t want to in the first place.

Lexa, who never lets herself be vulnerable in front of anyone, who’s trembling and crying before her, begging Clarke to say it. Begging Clarke to say the words that she’s never heard anyone say in all her eighteen years. 

No words have ever passed so easily past the blonde’s lips.

“Lexa, I’m in love with you.”

Clarke’s voice cracks on the word ‘love,’ but she doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Lexa, so beautiful in the silver light, hears her and truly believes her. She promises then and there that she will spend years proving these words if that’s what it takes.

Lexa’s eyelids flutter against welling tears as she takes in a sharp breath of air at Clarke’s words. Clarke’s grip tightens instinctively, keeping the both of them steady as Lexa’s dam breaks. The tears in her eyes flow freely, now, and Clarke is soon to follow. They both giggle wetly through the sudden surge of emotion, cut off only by Lexa leaning forward to capture Clarke’s lips in another kiss. 

This one is deeper and more passionate than the careful ones before. It’s more sure and forward as Lexa reaches up and tangles her fingers in Clarke’s unruly golden locks, pulling the blonde impossibly closer. The heat of the room is beginning to rise as their bodies are pressed flush against each other, moving with the rhythm of the kiss.

Lexa tugs at Clarke’s tank top, and Clarke wastes no time in pulling it off. She discards it on the floor absently, not particularly caring where it ends up. She no sooner takes her tank off before she’s pulling Lexa’s over her head, giggling as it nearly gets stuck. They both sniffle in the midst of their laughter, the tears no longer welling up but still falling. Their noses are probably running, but Clarke simply can’t care.

Wordlessly, their shorts are soon to follow. Once down to their familiar bra and underwear, they walk over to the bed.

Lexa sits on the edge of it, facing the window. She keeps hold of Clarke’s hand, her long fingers tightening around it slightly, and looks upward.

There it is again. That look of absolute and complete adoration that knocks the wind out of Clarke’s chest every time she sees it. She forgets again what it is to breathe until Lexa is pulling her forward onto the sage sheets.

They’re not very coordinated. It’s nothing like the movies; their movements are not swift, but rather bumbly and awkward. It takes a few moments of adjustment for Clarke to finally position herself over Lexa, and the both of them grin. Clarke’s entire body is shaking, so she allows it to fall somewhat slack against Lexa.

“I can see you still holding yourself up,” Lexa says, her voice shaking. Clarke chuckles, knowing she’s been caught. 

Lexa doesn’t speak. Instead, she simply grabs Clarke’s hips and gently lowers her down, willing the blonde to let all of her weight fall onto the brunette. Clarke finally gives in, her muscles no longer holding her up in the first place. The corner of Lexa’s lip pulls up in a small smile. She says nothing, but Clarke still knows.

The smiles on their faces disappear, wiped off by speechless adoration as they stare at each other. A moment of bravery washes over Clarke as she leans forward and presses her lips softly to Lexa’s, then pulls herself back upward. She straightens her back and reaches beneath the fabric of her sports bra, then shakily pulls it over her head. She’s slightly sweaty, so it’s a rather difficult task, but she manages it. The article is tossed off the bed carelessly, making a quiet thump as it hits the floor. The blonde takes a moment to collect herself before she looks down to meet Lexa’s eyes again.

Clarke almost smiles at the sight. Lexa’s staring unabashedly at this new part of the blonde’s body that she’s never yet seen, eyes widened and lips parted in awe. Clarke fights the urge to cover her chest self consciously as a witty remark pushes past her lips.

“Oxygen’s kinda important, Lex,” she whispers, but it’s not convincing at all. She can barely get her voice above a whisper.

Lexa doesn’t respond. Instead, she sits up slowly, giving Clarke the time to push her away. She doesn’t. When the brunette is almost completely sitting up, she lifts her chin to look Clarke in the eye.

Clarke carefully reaches out, still perched in Lexa’s lap, and slides her fingers beneath the brunette’s own sports bra. Lexa gives a slow nod of consent, and Clarke slowly pulls the material off. It takes a bit of Lexa’s help, seeing as she’s already sweaty as well, but they manage. The bra is thrown aside as well. Clarke knows they really should place the clothes in a somewhat orderly fashion, but the thought slips her mind immediately when she allows herself to look down.

She’s staring for a few moments when Lexa speaks.

“My eyes are up here,” she teases halfheartedly. Clarke can feel how hard the brunette’s hard is beating as Lexa’s wrist presses against Clarke’s back, her fingers interlocked to keep them steady.

“I’m aware,” Clarke retorts. Lexa grins, now, a real grin, and Clarke lets out a sigh. Her eyes fall shut as she wills herself to calm down. The nervousness is making her lightheaded, and she can’t even fathom how embarrassed she would be if she passed out in the middle of their first time.

Clarke takes in a gasp as soft, warm lips press against the sensitive skin of her chest, near the valley down the middle. She shudders blissfully as those lips kiss all across it, ever so gently, just barely grazing the skin. There’s already a familiar pooling sensation that’s making her underwear a bit uncomfortable, but she ignores it. 

When Lexa’s lips latch gently around Clarke’s peak, her tongue darting across it ever carefully, the blonde can’t stop the whimper that rises from the back of her throat. Lexa hums against her, and this time, Clarke bites back the resulting moan. Her hips move forward without thought, and she feels Lexa’s response pressing against her wonderfully.

“I think these need to come off,” Lexa says, reaching down to thumb at both of their waistbands. Clarke nods, climbing off of the brunette to do just that. It takes a little awkward positioning, but they get the final pieces of clothing off their bodies and let them drop to the floor on either side of them. 

This time, it’s Lexa who climbs over top of Clarke. She kisses every inch of the blonde, moving carefully and slowly so that Clarke could stop her at any time. But God, why would she want to? Every touch of Lexa’s lips sends jolts through her body, even the ones in the most innocent of places. She gasps and shudders and tries to keep quiet, but to no avail. 

“Let me hear you,” Lexa murmurs against the blonde’s bicep, continually working her way down.

She pauses and hovers over Clarke’s forearm, where the scars of a few weeks ago still remain. Clarke gulps, and she feels an uncomfortable heaviness settling into her chest. Though it’s only a few seconds, it feels as though it builds and builds until Lexa’s lips connect with the healing skin, peppering it with slow, loving kisses until not a single scar has been left untouched. As Lexa immediately moves over to the other arm, repeating that process, Clarke feels tears burning in her eyes once again. She sniffles, and she knows that Lexa notices, but the brunette simply seems to understand.

Lexa continues her ministrations over every piece of Clarke, loving her and appreciating her in a way so deeply intimate that Clarke can’t find words for the response she feels. The most sensitive spots have her back arching against her will, but Lexa doesn’t give her time to worry about it. 

Clarke flips them suddenly, once Lexa has reached back up to Clarke’s neck, and it’s probably the only swift move that will occur the entire night. Lexa barely has time to react before Clarke is doing the same thing that Lexa had done for her, her lips roaming over every inch of Lexa. The brunette doesn’t protest and simply lets Clarke roam. Clarke takes advantage of this and makes sure that not one piece of Lexa doesn’t receive her love.

Clarke’s heart both breaks in two and feels finally whole as Lexa reaches down and grabs hold of her hand, intertwining their fingers tightly. When Clarke looks up, the brunette’s head is thrown backward, lips parted, but it doesn’t hide the droplets sliding off the side of her face.

Clarke makes her way back up, careful not to let go of Lexa’s hand until the brunette is ready to. Their lips meet with gentle fervor, quick but soft kisses tugging at each other’s lips.

The ache between Clarke’s legs is getting to be unbearable. She nudges at Lexa’s nose, prompting the girl to open her eyes. The brunette’s pupils are dilated, leaving the green almost invisible. Clarke gulps, her mouth suddenly dry.

“In the drawer,” she whispers, sliding off of Lexa. As the brunette lean off the edge of the bed and gets into the top drawer of the nightstand, Clarke could swear she saw a smirk on her face.

Lexa stays facing the window, her actions out of sight as she rests on her heels. Clarke’s eyes drift up the brunette’s toned back, and she gulps as she sees Lexa’s right bicep bulging with every movement she makes.

When Lexa turns back around, Clarke doesn’t bother acting as though she weren’t just drinking her in. Lexa grins sheepishly as she climbs over and throws her leg over Clarke, centering herself above the blonde.

“What were you staring at?” she asks, as though she doesn’t know the answer.

“You,” Clarke obliges. “You’re beautiful.”

Lexa leans down, her chest squishing wonderfully against Clarke’s in the process, and captures the blonde’s lips. When she pulls back, she tugs slightly at Clarke’s bottom lip with her teeth, doing nothing to help the growing tightness at the base of the blonde’s stomach.

“I’m in love with you too, Clarke,” Lexa says. Her voice is low, but sincere as ever. Clarke’s heart flutters and her chest rushes with love as she leans upward this time, begging for contact.

As they kiss, she feels Lexa dancing around her entrance. She isn’t sure whether the brunette is meaning to or not, but it’s irrelevant to the fact that she can’t wait any longer. The ache is driving her insane and she needs to feel close to Lexa, needs to express the burning fire in her heart that’s set her aflame.

“Please,” she whispers against Lexa’s lips. She hopes that Lexa will know what she means.

And she does. The brunette nods against her and centers herself, pressingly gently to warn Clarke. Clarke nods frantically, feeling her heart beating erratically in her chest at the suspense.

Lexa pushes inside slowly, eliciting pleased moans from the both of them. The brunette shudders with pleasure above Clarke, her head drooping down so that it is almost on Clarke’s shoulder.

Clarke turns, willing herself to breathe properly, and presses her lips against Lexa’s temple. The brunette is completely inside now, and Clarke won’t lie - it hurts, just the smallest bit.

“Slow, okay?” she requests, and Lexa nods against her lips. She starts to pull out ever so slowly, listening intently to every sound Clarke makes. They both sigh as Lexa pulls almost completely out, then pushes back in.

Slowly but surely, she picks up the pace. Every time she begins to move faster, she looks to Clarke for approval. The blonde nods each time. She locks her arms around Lexa’s back, pulling her as close as possible. Lexa seems happy to oblige, and Clarke doesn’t wonder why; the brunette’s arms can barely support her weight. 

Every thrust has Lexa brushing against Clarke’s most sensitive spot, and each touch makes her jump. Little whimpers and sighs push past her lips before she can stop them. She swears she can feel Lexa grinning as her head completely drops onto her shoulder, where the brunette peppers kisses against damp skin. 

After one particularly long thrust, Lexa lets out a guttural moan that sends shivers down Clarke’s spine. She pants against the blonde’s neck, her arms clenching instinctively around Clarke’s upper body. That familiar build starts to rise. Clarke’s nails dig into Lexa’s back, needing somewhere to ground themselves. 

“I’ve got you,” Lexa whispers through a staggering breath. “You’re okay.”

Clarke feels that familiar burn behind her eyes and at first, she can’t figure out why. It isn’t until the next time that Lexa pushes in when they both press their lips to each other’s bare shoulders that Clarke realizes the reason. 

Never has anyone ever loved her so completely. No one has ever looked at her like Lexa does, as though she was still good even after all that she’d done. In the times where she looked to sex as an escape, no one was ever gentle. No one ever kissed every inch of her, even the worst parts. No one ever asked if she was okay. No one ever whispered such words of comfort and reassurance as though they’ve read her mind before she spoke. 

And no one has ever loved Lexa this way, either. Costia had tried, it seemed. Clarke knows she had. And it isn’t her fault that she simply couldn’t do it. It had nothing to do with Lexa, but God knows the brunette spent forever thinking that it did. No one has ever accepted every piece of Lexa and still kissed her and loved her like she was normal. No one has helped her with her shots, or understood when she got angry. Sure, she’d had friends. Sure, she had Anya, and anyone can see that Anya loves and accepts her endlessly. But, no one has ever romantically loved her so unconditionally and understandingly as Clarke does.

As Lexa begins to move faster, pushing a tad harder each time, Clarke snaps back to reality. Lexa’s eyes have fallen shut. Her breathing comes out in ragged, quick pants that make Clarke’s heart flutter just at the sound. Her lips come together as if trying to form a word, but it hardly comes out as another whimper takes its place.

The increase in speed has them both quickly rising to their peaks, and as Lexa’s hips begin to move with a mind of their own, Clarke bucks into her without control. They’re seconds away, without a doubt.

“Look at me,” Clarke breathes, her breath getting caught in her throat. A little whine escapes her as she repeats herself. “Look at me.”

Lexa obliges instantly, opening her eyes. She dips her head back down and meets Clarke’s eyes, and it’s almost too much then and there. But, there’s still a little time left, short as it may be, and Clarke intends to hold it out as long as she can.

“Clarke, I..” Lexa attempts, her tongue clicking on the ‘k’. It sends another dangerous jolt to Clarke’s center, but still, she holds it off. 

“Me too,” Clarke replies. Her hands move without thought as she reaches down and wraps them around Lexa’s hips. Lexa groans in delight at the sensation, and Clarke can feel her hardening inside.

“Come with me,” she says, never breaking eye contact. Lexa huffs a breath of agreement with a curt nod, and her eyes screw shut. Clarke reaches one hand upward and cups Lexa’s cheek gently, feeling herself beginning to tip over the edge. When Lexa opens her eyes again, they’re both done for.

Their mouths fall open in silent cries as their climaxes work through their bodies. They both stay rigid for a few seconds at the height of it, but Lexa finally begins to move to help them both down from the high. Clarke pants and whimpers with every stroke, and Lexa hums in pleasure in response. It takes a good twenty or thirty seconds, but finally, the last bit is milked out of them and the post-high exhaustion kicks in.

Lexa collapses onto Clarke, still sheathed inside. It takes a bit for them to catch their breaths, and neither of them bother with moving. It seems much too difficult a task. Clarke’s limbs feel like lead, but in the absolute best of ways.

Clarke swears she’s almost asleep when Lexa moves slightly, making them both aware that the brunette is still very much inside. She pulls out gently, careful of Clarke’s over-sensitive body, and pulls herself to the edge of the bed. She takes the wrap off of her and places it in the trash bin, which Clarke makes a mental note to clean out in the morning. 

Lexa crawls over and throws herself across Clarke, their skin slippery with sweat. Normally, they both would have been complaining, but they don’t have it in them right now. Clarke grins lazily as Lexa burrows her face in her neck.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you too, Clarke. Always.”

It’s so perfect. This is everything that Clarke had always dreamed it would be, and that sense of peace that she so craved has settled over her now. She can’t imagine being happier than she is in this moment, but she’s sure something will come along and prove her differently. After all, Lexa has a habit of doing that.

“Raven!”

The sudden, rather loud cry startles them both, and the sit up promptly in the bed. The sage green sheets are thrown off of their warm bodies as they perk their ears, trying to listen to the source.

“That was Octavia. Is she okay?” Clarke asks worriedly. She fights the urge to get up and run right then, waiting for another sound. She can’t even remember Raven and Octavia coming inside. Her cheeks burn at the thought that they might have been heard, but she pushes the idea away as she listens.

“Octavia, oh my…”

No fucking way.

Lexa immediately breaks into a fit of laughter, muffling it against Clarke’s back. The blonde feels her shaking with giggles, and it prompts her to begin laughing, too. Her hand flies up to her mouth to stifle her laughter, and they fall back against the bed, limbs lazily thrown across each other. 

When they catch their breath from laughter, suddenly every sound from the room across the hall is magnified. Clarke groans quietly and pulls a pillow over her head, then does the same to Lexa. Beneath the pillows, they look at each other grinning as they wait for the sounds to stop.

They finally do not even a minute later, and Clarke smiles devilishly. They’re going to have a hell of a fun time the next morning.

As Lexa’s eyes begin to droop and her smile begins to fade with tiredness, Clarke reaches over and lifts the girl up gently, urging her to put the pillow back on the bed. They both do so, and they collapse against the softness of the sheets. In the silence of the house, exhaustion beckons more convincingly than ever.

They don’t cuddle. Instead, they stay staring at each other, heads on their individual pillows, until their eyes drift shut. The last thing Clarke feels is Lexa’s fingers tangling with hers.

\--

The four share knowing, sheepish glances the entirety of the following morning, hardly speaking a word. Finally, around 11 while the boys are in their room getting their bags packed, Octavia speaks.

“So is anyone going to talk about how we all got laid last night?”

There’s a shuffling sound at the edge of the hallway, and Clarke sighs. She doesn’t know if she dares to see who’s standing there, but decides it’s inevitable anyway.

Bellamy is standing in the entrance, his mouth slightly agape and hand raised as though he had intended to say something. He’s completely frozen for a moment, and no one dares to even breathe. 

“Uh...Bell?” Clarke squeaks, grimacing in preparation for his response.

“I need a drink,” he mutters, sauntering toward the kitchen. 

The four have them have not laughed that hard in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAPPENED. I hope this was approached with the sensitivity and love that this topic deserves, please let me know your thoughts!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, thirteen is a cursed number. I also swear that this has a very good ending. This chapter as well as the finale does indeed jump around time wise a lot. I hope that they provide a good ending to a story that I'm truly quite proud of. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> abuse  
> misgendering

Summer ends and school begins much too quickly for anybody’s liking. Once they return from from the beach house trip, there’s but three weeks left before the beginning of their senior year. They spend at least three days every week as a whole group, and much of the other days are spent with bits and pieces of the group. Bellamy eventually warms up to the idea of Raven and Octavia being together, and Clarke sees him threaten Raven firsthand to destroy her if she even tries to hurt Octavia. (The threat was meek, however, because everyone knew that Raven would never even try to hurt the younger Blake sibling and she’d punish herself more than Bellamy ever would.)

Bellamy officially enrolls in the National Guard as he said that he would, and he’s set to ship out for fourteen weeks of basic training in late December. They’ve still got a few months left with him before he leaves for such a long period of time, so they don’t talk about it much. Still, every time it is brought up, they make sure to shower him with support and encouragement. Clarke doesn’t miss the way Octavia’s eyes get glossy as she forces a smile up at him.

The school year starts early, right at the beginning of August. Clarke tries to be optimistic and remember that it only means they’ll get out earlier, too, but she still feels ripped off of her summer. Two months is a short summer that she wishes could have lasted just a little bit longer. As the first month or so passes and classes really start to kick in, however, she realizes that it isn’t as bad as she thought. A familiar routine settles in again, and senior year is in full swing.

Clarke, Lexa, Raven, and Octavia all schedule for first period Advanced Strength Training with Kane, as well as a study hall directly afterward. The newest couple had grown tired of going to class sticky and sweaty the year before, and the chance to shower simply couldn’t be passed up. Better yet was the fact that no one else had their bright idea, leaving the entire locker room to just the four girls after each class.

After a strangely hot day of outside work in late September, the four of them sit silently on the bench next to where their lockers are, the same one that Clarke knocked into months and months ago. They do this every day, waiting for the rest of the girls to leave so that they can change.

When the final bell rings, signifying the passing period to the next class of the day, Clarke leans forward. She looks upward in concentration and strains her ears to seek out the sounds of any remaining people. When she comes up with nothing, she sighs and stands. Her muscles ache and burn with each movement, and she groans as they nearly give out on her with the sudden movement after so much stillness.

She turns slowly to face the bench, where Lexa is looking pitifully up at her. Her bottom lip is pushed out in a pout, her eyebrows slanted upward as she begs with pleading eyes. She raises her hand just slightly, and Clarke snorts. The blonde rolls her eyes as she reaches out and takes Lexa’s outstretched hand into her own, gently as though she might break, and pulls her upward.

“You’re pathetic,” Raven teases, her hands running over frizzy and sweat-drenched hair in an attempt to fix it. It’s useless, as the stray strands refuse to go where they should. She gives up on her efforts and sighs, her hand dropping to fiddle with the lock on her locker. 

“I know, right?”

Clarke freezes. The smile on her face falls immediately as her heart begins to pound inside her chest at the familiar voice. Raven and Octavia’s heads jerk upward, their eyes already cold and iced over in anger at the insult.

Clarke spins around, pulling Lexa behind her instinctively. The blonde looks backward and meets Lexa’s eyes only for a moment, then quickly turns her attention back to the source of the voice.

Three of the most despicable humans that Clarke has ever had the misfortune of knowing stand before her, two of them standing behind their ‘leader’ like a pyramid. Almost comically, their arms are crossed and their hips are jutted out, only adding to their mean-girl demeanor. Clarke feels a fire bubbling inside her chest at the mere sight of it.

“Come again?” she spits, her voice suddenly dark and gravely. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Raven and Octavia standing on either side of her. Their jaws clench furiously, a sure sign that they’re just as pissed off as Clarke is.

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Alie replies. Behind her, Nia and Ontari grin wordlessly. Clarke makes the merest indication that she’s about to step forward, but a hand on her back is all it takes for her to freeze.

“They’re not worth it, Clarke,” Lexa whispers, only loud enough for the three standing in front of her to hear. “They’re just trying to get a rise out of you.”

Clarke doesn’t respond. Instead, she trains her gaze on the three girls, clenching her fist in an effort to keep still. She isn’t even sure that she blinks, for her eyes begin to burn.

“What are you even doing here?” Octavia scowls. “The bell rang.”

“Had some business to take care of,” Nia pipes up. There’s a sick, wicked grin of amusement on her face that Clarke wants to slap right off of it. “We can’t have boys in the girl’s locker room.”

The words make Clarke’s blood run cold. At the sound of Lexa audibly gasping in surprise behind her, the blonde begins to shake with rage. She grits her teeth and clenches her fists until her knuckles turn white. Two warning hands on either arm hold her back, and she’s grateful. She isn’t sure what she’d do otherwise.

“What are you talking about?” Raven asks, straightening her back. Alie points toward the three of them, standing on her tiptoes. She has a tiny, unsettling smile on her face as she gestures to the shocked brunette standing behind them.

“We saw you changing earlier. Can’t hide the truth,” Nia says, shrugging. 

“There are no boys in this room right now,” Clarke replies, her voice warning and low. If they walk away now, she might let them go without any other sort of confrontation, but she can’t promise anything if they decide to stay.

Her patience is tested as Alie rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. Her fingernail, painted bright red, taps against the screen as she goes searching for something. The sound only heightens Clarke’s anger, but the grips on her wrists tighten ever so subtly. Lexa’s breathing behind her is ragged, and she’s about to turn around when Alie looks up.

“Right, here we go…” she says, turning the screen so that it’s in Clarke’s, Octavia’s, and Raven’s view. It takes a second for Clarke’s eyes to adjust to the light, but what she sees causes a whole range of emotions to rise up within her. Her heart flutters at the image, then nearly stops when she sees the name next to it.

It’s a school picture of a little boy, easily no more than five years old. He’s wearing a blue and white checkered button up, buttoned all except the top. He’s got a wide, toothy smile that almost warms Clarke’s heart for a second. His shaggy brown hair falls in front of his forehead, nearly covering his eyes. They’re bright green, the brightest Clarke has ever seen. She’d know those eyes anywhere. The words ‘Alex Woods’ below the image only confirm what she already knows.

“Looks a lot like a certain someone in the room, doesn’t it? I mean even the name, it’s just uncanny.”

“Clarke,” Lexa whispers urgently behind her. The brunette’s breaths are shallow and ragged, and even her whispered word comes out broken. An unsteady hand presses against Clarke’s sweaty back, and the blonde can feel how badly Lexa is shaking. This needs to end quickly.

“Alie, I would advise you strongly to leave all of us alone,” Octavia warns. Her voice shakes as though she’s trying to control it and keep herself in check.

“I’m not leaving until I feel safe from boys who just want a show in the locker room,” Alie replies. Clarke gulps. 

_ Keep it together, Clarke,  _ she thinks, trying to keep her calm.  _ At least for Lexa. _

“ _ She  _ doesn’t want a show,” Raven says, emphasizing her first word. Her voice is raising, now, and Clarke knows that the brunette is dangerously close to letting her temper get the best of her. “ _ She  _ just wants to feel comfortable in her own skin.”

“Raven, it’s…” Lexa mutters, but it’s no use. She can barely get the words out before her voice breaks off. Clarke isn’t quite ready to turn and see the brunette, for she doesn’t know how she’ll bear the sight of her so beaten down. The image alone makes Clarke’s heart ache painfully in her chest.

“What  _ he  _ needs is some mental help!” Nia exclaims, stepping forward. “It’s a sickness, a weakness of the mind!”

“NO!”

Clarke leaps at the girl, knocking her backward into the lockers. Hands grab at her for a moment, but it’s a useless motion. Nothing is going to tear her away from pinning Nia against those lockers and making her regret every word she just said. Clarke takes advantage of the blonde’s unsteadiness and grabs her forearms, then spins her around. She shoves Nia against the lockers, pinning the girls arms above her head. Nia attempts a kick at Clarke, but is met with a swift kick to the shin and Clarke standing on the girl’s feet. For once, she’s grateful for her heavy weight, for it’s enough to keep the girl from moving. There’s some rustling behind her, and Clarke can only hope that it’s Raven and Octavia getting ahold of Alie and Ontari, too. Her attention is directed back to Nia, whose silvery grey eyes stare angrily at her. 

Clarke does not back down. She leans in closer to the blonde’s face, and before she can think, words are spewing from her mouth without thought or control.

“A sickness of the mind? A weakness?” she spits incredulously. Nia doesn’t flinch, but Clarke presses on. “Lexa is the strongest woman I’ve ever met in my life. You can’t even begin to imagine what she went through, Nia. You can’t. She had so many people telling her that she was sick and that something was wrong with her, but YOU’RE sick for telling her that.”

The words are flowing from her like a release of angry energy, and she can’t stop them.

“You’re so incredibly closed-minded that you aren’t even capable of imagining what it’s like to wake up every day in a body that doesn’t feel like your own,” she continues. The insult causes Nia to attempt to move forward, but Clarke’s having none of it. She tightens her grip and shoves her backward, almost knocking her head into the metal. It gets the message across, and Nia stills.

Clarke opens her mouth to speak, but she can’t. Her body shakes with the strength at which she’s pinning Nia down mixed with pure, unadulterated rage coursing through her veins. She’s never felt this protective over anyone, and it almost scares her the kind of power that she’s discovered in herself. 

She suddenly lets go, stepping away from the blonde. Nia reacts immediately, scuffling over to where Alie and Ontari stand. There’s fading red marks on their wrists that tell Clarke that Octavia and Raven had gotten ahold of them, after all. The three girls look unnerved, and it’s satisfying, as guilty as that makes Clarke feel. She takes deep breaths as she tries to regain her composure. She doesn’t dare look behind her at Lexa. Not yet.

“Are you through?” Octavia asks as calmly as she can. 

Alie sighs, and her expression turns almost apologetic. Clarke raises an eyebrow slightly. Something isn’t right.

“Hey, Lexa?” the dark haired girl asks. Her voice is sickeningly sweet, and anyone hearing it would know that it was fake. She’s just about to step forward, but she moves too late.

“I’m sorry. It must’ve been hard growing up as a freak.”

The next few seconds are a blur. Lexa shoves past, and Clarke hardly realizes what’s happening until she hears a loud smack. Her eyes refocus and find Alie looking to the side, holding her cheek gingerly as Lexa stands with her hand still raised. Clarke can’t see her face, but the brunette’s ears are a deep red. Nia and Ontari stand there frozen, eyes wide and mouths agape at what just happened.

When Alie straightens back out, there’s already a red mark forming on her left cheek. Her eyes water slightly, but they’re cold as ice as she stares Lexa down.

Lexa, however, is unwavering as she lowers her hand. Neither Clarke, Raven, nor Octavia move, too stunned to think, but they don’t have to.

“Get. Out,” Lexa hisses, and it truly is a hiss. It’s the coldest and angriest that Clarke has ever heard her girlfriend sound, and it sends a shiver down her spine. She can hardly grasp how someone so gentle and loving to her can turn so cold, but it impresses her all the same.

The three girls don’t move, and Lexa is having none of it.

“Did I stutter?” she spits, taking the girls by surprise. They walk off in silence, still in a stupor at what just happened. No one moves until the door to the locker room clicks shut, and they’re alone once again.

Clarke is frozen. She stares forward, right at the spot where Lexa’s hand had been raised just a minute ago, but she’s staring at a tile wall now. Her heart thuds roughly in her chest as she waits for someone, anyone, to move, but no one does.

When she sees Lexa’s body trembling, looking like she’s going to give out any second, she suddenly springs into action.

She practically leaps forward to close the small space between the two of them and gingerly wraps Lexa in her arms, her fingers sliding tentatively down the brunette’s damp and sticky skin. Clarke meets the stunned eyes of Raven and Octavia, and they simply stare back, unmoving, waiting for something to happen. 

Lexa doesn’t respond right away. For a moment, she’s perfectly still, her breath caught in her chest as though she can’t get it in or out. The only movement of her body is the shaking, which doesn’t stop no matter how tightly Clarke holds on. The blonde buries her face in Lexa’s neck. She figures that skin to skin contact might pull her out of this trance, this shock, and she figures correctly. 

Lexa brings her arms up and wraps them around Clarke’s waist, her grip weak and unsteady. Clarke moves her head upward so that Lexa’s may fall onto her shoulder, and the brunette wastes no time in doing just that. Ragged, uneven breaths pant against Clarke’s skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the heat of the locker room. The uncertainty of what’s going on in her girlfriend’s head makes her own body feel shaky, but she wills it to be still as she holds Lexa tighter.

A few moments later, Lexa finally releases her breath, and with it falls hot droplets onto Clarke’s collarbone. They slide down and soak into the fabric of her green tank top, surely leaving dark spots where they fall. Clarke’s grip tightens and her hands move about Lexa’s back, searching for some way to get to her but not knowing what to do. 

The brunette takes in a shuddering breath, and when she lets it go, it comes out as a harsh sob, breaking the dam.

It’s downhill from there. Sounds that are anything but human push themselves past Lexa’s lips with each heaving sob, and were it not for the strength of Clarke’s grip, Lexa wouldn’t be able to stand from the force of them. Her body jerks as anguish courses through her, and trembles inbetween each onset of emotion. Hot tears, spit, and snot drip down onto Clarke’s upper chest and tank top, but that’s the least of her worries. Her heart is jackhammering in her chest as Lexa falls to pieces in her arms, and she’s left helpless but to hold her until it’s over.

She can’t imagine what her girlfriend must be going through. 

Years. Years upon years of torment. Being called a freak, worthless, diseased. Years of thinking it and believing it and losing people she loved over it. Seeing it kill someone she found solace in, someone she loved with all of her young heart. Escaping from it at last and living peacefully on the other side of the country, only to have someone dredge up her past and pull that peace out from under her in seconds flat. Clarke has known devastation, but she has never had to relive it in the way that Lexa surely is now, and that thought tears her in two.

Before she realizes what’s happening, tears flood from her eyes and streak her own cheeks. Her head falls forward as she squeezes her eyes shut, only causing more tears to drip down her face and onto Lexa’s exposed shoulders. Words tumble from her lips before she can stop them, before she even knows what she’s saying.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers brokenly. She wishes that she had something more to give, but it’s all she has. 

Lexa doesn’t respond, and Clarke doesn’t expect her to. It takes a few moments before the blonde can open her eyes, and her vision is blurred for a moment even so. She can make out the silhouettes of Raven and Octavia, who have moved to stand in front of her and Lexa. Once the tears no longer cloud her vision, Clarke sees that Octavia and Raven are staring at the two of them with watery eyes. Raven’s lips move as though to say something, but nothing comes out.

There’s a solid three minutes of silence save for sniffles and Clarke and Lexa’s cries, Lexa’s the loudest and most heartwrenching. Clarke thinks that nothing she says or does could ever be enough, so all she does is hold her in hopes that it will be something.

When the brunette finally calms down enough to breathe normally, they finally move to sit on the bench. Lexa’s limbs still quake dangerously with each step, and Clarke doesn’t dare let go of her arm as they move. 

When the four of them sit on the bench, still, there is silence. No one seems to know what to say, terrified of knocking Lexa off the edge again but wanting desperately to fill the gap. Clarke glances up at the clock; they still have over half an hour until the next bell rings. That’ll give them enough time to still shower before their next class, even with talking for a while longer. 

If they can ever come up with the words.

“Thank you for defending me,” Lexa whispers. Her voice is gritty and gravelly from crying, and the deepness that still creeps in sometimes is making an appearance. 

“Til our last breaths, Woods,” Raven replies from her place next to Octavia. She tries to make her words light, she really does, but the heaviness in the room just simply can’t be erased yet. Still, the weight of the words does not get past any of them.

There’s only a beat before Octavia slides gently off the bench, her knees making a dull thud as they hit the floor. Clarke winces at the sound, but watches Octavia to see what she’s doing.

The youngest brunette scoots on her knees until she’s kneeling in front of Lexa, whose emerald green eyes are pointed to her lap, seemingly tracing the patterns in her shorts. She doesn’t look up as shaking hands reach and take her own hands, unfolding them and willing them to wrap around Octavia’s. 

Octavia looks up at her with the tiniest of sympathetic smiles, her eyes still shimmering with unshed tears. The tip of her nose is a dark shade of pink, and it spreads into her rosy cheeks. Her voice is strained and hushed when she speaks.

“Look at me.”

The words, though quiet, are so sincere and full of conviction that both Clarke and Lexa are taken aback. Lexa finally looks up, meeting Octavia’s concerned eyes. For a moment, they simply hold their gazes, neither one prepared to speak just yet.

Finally, Octavia does.

“Yu ste meizen,” she whispers. “Yu ste klir.”

They’re six simple words, not laden with intricacies of figurative speech or profound vocabulary, and perhaps that’s what makes them so effective. Clarke’s breath hitches in her throat as the weight behind those simple phrases settles on her, and she turns her attention to the brunette sitting next to her.

Lexa’s eyelids are fluttering in an attempt to push back welling tears, and her lips are parted as she tries to search for words. A few pieces come out, but she can’t piece together a response. 

Suddenly, Raven’s hand reaches out gently and rests on the brunette’s forearm. Clarke looks up and finds Raven watery-eyed once again as she looks at Lexa with the same conviction as her girlfriend kneeling on the ground before them. They speak no words, but their eyes say what their lips cannot speak.

“Thank you,” Lexa whispers. Raven and Octavia nod shortly.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Raven says. Octavia squeezes Lexa’s hands just for a moment, then accept’s Raven’s as the older brunette pulls her up. They both wince, their muscles still aching, as they gather their clothing and towels and head across the locker room to the showers. They’re down to just twenty five minutes or so, but it’s certainly enough time to shower and be changed before the bell beckons for their departure from the locker room.

Clarke can’t tear her eyes away from Lexa. 

She looks a mess, really. Her hair is a frenzied mess of frizz and loose strands sticking out every which way despite her tight ponytail. Her sweat has dried now, but it leaves trails down the side of her face and neck. Her skin is blotchy with reds and pinks, her extremities and her cheeks being the darkest. Her eyes, no longer crying but still watery with the tears from moments ago, are the kind of green that only comes out when she cries. Dried tears and snot stick to her face, and drool pools at the corners of her lips. Her slouched form reveals the tiny bit of body fat she does have, and the little pouch of her tummy is evident beneath the form-fitting tank top she wears. Still, despite all these ‘imperfections,’ Lexa is beautiful and Clarke can’t breathe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Clarke is startled by Lexa’s sudden voice, despite how quiet it is. She blinks a few times, trying to bring herself back to sense, and clears her scratchy throat.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m good.”

Suddenly, Clarke understands how Lexa felt that day, curled up into her side at the hospital.

“Because you are,” she says plainly. “You’re beautiful. Your body is perfect as it is Lexa. Every piece of it. Even the parts you don’t like.”

“But it’s more than that. It’s your heart. You didn’t let the world turn you cold even when it was cold to you. You still possess compassion and sympathy and you love more wholly than anyone I’ve ever met. You found light in pitch black darkness, and you let that light guide you through.”

She’s rambling, now, but she doesn’t care.

“I look at you like you’re good because you are. Every piece of you. Your victories, your failures, your good days, your bad days, your laughter, your tears, your 3 am’s when you can’t breathe, your 2 pm’s when the air has never tasted so sweet. Every piece of you is good because you figured out how to stay good when you had every right to be bad.”

Lexa turns, lip trembling and cheeks rosy anew, and  _ God,  _ her eyes have never been so bright.

Her voice cracks over words, but Clarke brings a shaking finger up and presses it gently to the brunette’s lips, effectively quieting her.

“I love you, too.”

The urgent plead in Lexa’s eyes settles, and finally, she begins to shed the weight of what’s happened. She presses her lips together gently, trying to stop them from quaking, but it’s to no avail. Clarke doesn’t mind.

“Let’s go take a shower,” she suggests, knowing they’re running out of time. Lexa lets out a rush of air and nods almost too eagerly.

Clarke gingerly bathes the ache off of her girlfriend’s skin with every swipe of her soap-covered cloth, and Lexa lets her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is much appreciated as always, thank you so much for the comments and kudos! The finale is an epilogue chapter. After reviewing this chapter, I feel that I've accomplished everything I set out to accomplish, but I don't want it to end on this note. Epilogue will be up by 7.1.16!


	14. Chapter 14

“Baby, we’re going to be late. It’s already 9:30 and we have to get across town.”

Clarke sighs and looks up in the mirror, watching carefully as she pulls her earring from her right ear. She places the back on it once it’s in her hand and puts the pair away, safe in her jewelry box on the dresser. She sees that Lexa’s is still open and closes it gently, careful not to make too much noise.

“Do you think they’ll care if we’ve still got all this makeup on?” Clarke asks, searching the reflection until she finds Lexa’s hunched form. The brunette is pulling on a pair of loose jeans, her favorites, to match with the black long sleeved shirt she’s just changed into. Her hair is still done up nicely and even in the dim light of the room, Clarke can tell that her makeup is still intact, too.

“I doubt it. If we try to wash it off now we’ll look like raccoons,” Lexa replies, her smile evident in her voice. Clarke chuckles and unbuttons the top button of her flannel, then spins around on her heels. She leans back against the dresser,  _ their  _ dresser.

God, after a year of living together, that still feels so good.

“You think Rae and Octavia have left yet? Maybe we can just catch a ride with them,” Clarke suggests. Lexa finally seems content with the position of her belt and strides over to Clarke, her urgent expression softening at the sight of her girlfriend. The corner of Clarke’s lips tug up into a smile at the sight.

As Lexa wraps her arms around the blonde’s waist, Clarke reaches up and locks her hands behind Lexa’s ears. Her thumbs slide across the brunette’s smooth face, silky where stubble once grew. While working as a therapist in the psychiatric wing of Abby’s hospital, she’d finally saved up enough funds to do laser hair removal on the most troubling parts of her body. Clarke still isn’t used to not waking up to something scratching her shoulder, but the light in Lexa’s eyes every time she feels the smoothness of her skin makes up for it plenty.

“You’re going to mess up my makeup,” the brunette teases, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Clarke’s lips. Clarke rolls her eyes playfully and grins, cocking an eyebrow at her girlfriend. 

“Will you stop being such a girl?”

Lexa snorts, but try as she might, she can’t hide the grin on her face.

Three sharp knocks at their apartment door startle them out of their momentary trance, and Clarke nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound. Lexa chuckles and takes a deep breath, taking hold of Clarke’s wrist to drag her out to the living room. There’s another knock at the door by the time they get to it.

“I told you they left al-”

When the door swings open, Octavia and Raven are standing in the hallway wearing hoodies and jeans, their hair pulled up into hurried ponytails. Raven’s jeans are dirty with what looks like oil, and the both of them look like they just woke up.

“Oh thank God. I’m gonna call an Uber. Maybe we won’t be late,” Octavia says, pulling out her phone. Raven rolls her eyes and simply stands there, unmoving, as a tiny amused smile pulls at her lips.

“Why do you two have literal cakes of makeup on your faces?” Raven asks as Octavia clicks away, her nails tapping against the screen as she calls for an Uber. She worries her bottom lip as she works, and Clarke grins slightly.

“Tonight was date night,” Lexa replies, stepping out into the hall. She shuts off the lights in the apartment and closes the door, then locks it. They head out toward the stairs, walking straight past the elevator out of habit.

Miraculously, they get to their destination right on time. They step out of the Uber and into the somewhat chilly night air, the breeze sending shivers down Clarke’s spine. Octavia pays the driver and he speeds off, leaving them by their lonesome on the sidewalk of Golden Gate Bridge. Their eyes scan the huge structure until they catch sight of three boys leaning against the old, rusted railing, already with drinks in hand.

“Started without us, did you?” Octavia calls, catching their attention. As they approach the boys, Clarke can see Bellamy’s wide smile and the glint of his glasses in the overhanging streetlight. He leans down into the cardboard box that they’ve got sitting against the rail and grabs four drinks, two in each hand. He holds his arms out toward them as they approach.

Four thank-you’s and popped bottles later, Clarke takes a sip of a familiar drink, the watermelon flavor slipping over her tongue and down her throat deliciously. She sighs in content, then leans against the reddish orange barrier dividing them from the sea below.

“So it’s been a while, huh?” Bellamy says, breaking the silence. Quiet chuckles sound through the group, and Clarke smiles as Lexa slips her arm through the space created by Clarke’s. A Green Apple Smirnoff is held firmly in her right hand, and Clarke fights the urge to sneer at it in disgust.

“Only a few months. Not bad, considering we’ve been doing this for five years now,” Raven says, shrugging. Octavia leans on her shoulder, having hardly touched her Bud Light yet.

Raven isn’t wrong. Five years have passed since they’ve graduated high school, and through college, work, relationships and all, they’ve managed to meet in the same spot nearly every month. Third arch in from the city on Golden Gate Bridge at 10 pm with one drink for each of them.

“Alright,” Monty says, breaking the silence. “What’d we miss?”

Several people begin to speak, their voices overlapping in a sea of sounds that no one can make sense of, and Clarke giggles. They seem to realize no one can understand them and settle, sheepish smiles pulling at their lips as a comfortable quiet falls over them again.

“Down the line,” Clarke suggests, her fingers wrapping around the bottle in her hand. She leans out against the railing slightly more so she can see all of her friends’ faces, and she’s met with expressions of agreement.

“You first, Crayola,” Jasper replies, and Raven snorts as she nearly chokes on her drink. Clarke can see her grin through her pursed lips as she continues to sip on the Bud Light, and the blonde raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“You have so much makeup caked on your face right now it’s like you thought it was a coloring book,” Jasper explains, his shaggy but surprisingly rather groomed hair falling in front of his face as he turns his head. Clarke rolls her eyes.

“It was date night!” she and Lexa exclaim simultaneously, eliciting amused grins from their friends. Jasper waves his hand dismissively and straightens out for a moment, then turns to face Clarke again.

“Technicalities. Anyway...you first.”

Clarke sighs, takes a sip, then begins. 

“I finally finished enough pieces to hold an auction again, we’ll probably have it within the next two weeks,” she explains, trying but failing to hide the proud smile on her face. Pride and confidence are two virtues she’s yet to fully possess, but she’s getting there. Slowly but surely.

“We’re buying all of them,” Raven says, grinning. “No auction for you, sorry.”

Clarke’s heart feels warm and full as she passes the conversation on to Lexa.

“Kaylee is doing so much better,” the brunette says happily, her emerald eyes lighting up as she begins to speak. “Abby said she’s likely to see remission, and that my counseling has helped her a lot.”

Clarke has proof of this statement. Lexa’s job as a counselor to Abby’s patients has proved to be one of the best positions the brunette could possibly have taken. Clarke hears time and time again from her mother that Lexa’s spirit and optimism is what’s saved her patients, not the medicine.

Lexa nudges Octavia gently in the arm, signifying that it’s her turn to contribute to the conversation. The younger brunette nods subtly and finishes the last swallow of her drink before placing the empty bottle on the concrete below her. She pauses for a moment, pondering what to say.

“Found a kid hidden under the floorboards about a month ago,” she says quietly, a certain somberness washing over her. The content smiles on the group’s faces falter and give way to empathy as Octavia continues her story. “We got her out of there ASAP, and it didn’t take too long for her to find a family.”

Octavia swallows, her eyes falling to the water below.

“Still, the look in her eyes when I peeled back that board...I just can’t get it out of my head, y’know?”

Raven gently slides her hand up Octavia’s arm, a silent reassurance that the child is alright now, no longer suffering under her abuser’s jurisdiction anymore. Octavia takes a deep breath and brings her eyes back up, darting between the people around her. Clarke smiles sympathetically when their eyes meet, and she sees something she can’t identify flit across the brunette’s teal orbs.

“She’s safe now, O. Thanks to you,” Bellamy says softly, his voice low and gentle. Octavia smiles, her glow returning to her as that reality sinks in. 

“Alright, babe, tell them what happened this week,” the brunette says excitedly, poking Raven in the side. Raven giggles and twitches slightly in response to the poke to such a ticklish part of her, and though her chuckles die down, her smile does not. An intrigued silence falls over them all as they await what Raven has to say.

“So, I opened up my own shop last month, right?” she says. Clarke grins as she remembers the group chat blowing up with excited messages on the morning of its opening. They try to save some things for these monthly meetings, but sometimes, things are too exciting not to share and they end up having a little party in the group chat.

“On Thursday, I open the doors like normal and I’m just finishing my cup of coffee when Sinclair comes in.”

Eyes widen all the way down the line, and Bellamy gives a toothy, excited grin at the words. Jacapo Sinclair had been Raven’s biggest father figure all her life, despite the fact that he was her employer when she was working at his shop during high school. The last time Raven had mentioned him was a few months after graduation.

“He strolls in all nonchalant, points outside and asks me straight-faced if I could fix a scratch on his car. Best mechanic in the city came asking me to fix a scratch on his car,” Raven chuckles. “I didn’t even know what to say. I must’ve looked like an idiot, the way I cried.”

Clarke smiles contently as Raven tells the story, and the blonde can perfectly imagine the scene. Even now, Raven’s eyes are watery as she recalls the event.

“Well you guys have all these awesome stories, and here’s Monty and I...graphic designers,” Jasper says, chuckling. Lexa smiles in amusement as the two boys chuckle in spite of themselves.

“Who also happen to be working on virtual reality training for the military,” Monty says absently, sipping on his beer and staring off into the distance in feigned modesty. Still, Clarke isn’t blind to the proud grin on his face.

“Way to steal the spotlight,” Raven teases, her voice wet and gravelly with emotion. She chuckles and wipes at her nose, which has begun to run. Whether it’s from the chilly air or her memory, Clarke can’t tell. Lexa grins next to her and tightens her grip around the blonde’s arm.

“Seems like we’ve all had our victories lately,” Clarke offers, and her friends smile, content with that notion. 

As if on cue, all eyes turn to Bellamy, who leans silently against the railing, his drink long forgotten in his hand. 

“Yes?” he asks, pretending not to know what they’re seeking. Clarke rolls her eyes at her longtime best friend, and Monty prods at Bellamy’s side as if to urge him on. The shaggy haired boy smiles and sighs.

“Gina’s pregnant.”

Clarke’s heart nearly stops at the announcement, and she hears Lexa audibly gasp next to her. There’s a few moments of shocked silence, and no one seems to know how to react. Octavia is the first to move, breaking free from Raven’s iron grip and practically leaping excitedly into her brother’s arms. Bellamy lets out an ‘oof’ of surprise and laughs as Raven takes his drink out of his hand. He then wraps his strong, sturdy arms around his sister’s torso, wincing at her squealing directly into his ear. Drinks are placed absently on the concrete and soon, everyone is hugging him, squealing and giving hurried congratulations to him in one overlapping wave.

Finally, they begin to settle and peel themselves off of Bellamy, who’s so happy and excited that he seems to barely know where to begin. It’s the first time in a long time that Clarke has seem him so excited.

“Do you have any ideas for names yet?” Lexa asks, grinning from ear to ear. Clarke’s heart seems like it’s going to burst at the seams; seeing Lexa so excited about a child makes the blonde feel ready to combust with adoration.

“Gina really wants to name it Leilah if it’s a girl,” Bellamy replies, his smile never fading. Raven and Octavia grin, apparently approving the name.

“And if it’s a boy?” 

Bellamy’s smile falters, if only slightly, and is replaced with one of reverence and the tiniest hint of an ache. 

“Jake,” he replies, his voice hushed. “Jacob Blake.”

Wordlessly, Clarke lets go of Lexa’s hand and approaches Bellamy, whose arms are already outstretched, and buries her face in his chest. She breathes deeply as strong hands rub up and down her back, tracing infinity signs over her spine. The movement is familiar, and it seems fitting that her father’s calming mechanism should be the way Bellamy soothes her now. 

For a moment, Clarke allows herself to feel small in her practically older brother’s arms, and she closes her eyes. They burn with welling tears that threaten to slip down her makeup covered cheeks, and she doesn’t care.

“I miss him,” she whispers. Bellamy’s breath hitches.

“We all do.”

Clarke feels another pair of arms - Lexa’s - wrap around her from behind. Soon after, another pair, then another join, until everyone is once again huddled around Bellamy. They stand in that embrace, on the side of Golden Gate Bridge at ten something at night in the cold of the winter air, for a seemingly infinite number of minutes. Time passes quickly and slowly all at once, and Clarke loses herself in the warmth of her friends’ embrace. A tiny kiss to her shoulder by lips she’d know anywhere reminds her that she is loved in more ways than one.

The bustle of cars is almost inaudible to Clarke’s ears; she’s taken to blocking it out. Instead, she hones in on the gentle flow of the ocean beneath the bridge, listening to the water moving about toward the horizon. She breathes deeply, relishing in the way her lungs fill to the brim with air, achingly so, and relax as the air pushes back past her lips again.

If someone had told Clarke years ago that she’d be standing here surrounded by people she loves with a life that she can’t get enough of, she’d probably have believed them. Times were hard, but they weren’t insurmountable. She won’t pretend that everything was so bad that she couldn’t ever imagine the amazing things that would come her way. But she always thought happy endings like these were fairy tales. Dreams and goals conjured by artists of all sorts, seeking to portray an ideal life. She never expected that she’d beat her own mind, or that Octavia and Raven would finally find people who appreciated each other so much, or that Lexa would finally feel comfortable in her own skin, or that Bellamy would find a person who made him want to settle down, or that Jasper and Monty would finally prove to the world that they weren’t just gamers and nerds. 

But alas, they’d done it. It's beautiful. And they are finally, after all this time, safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this ride as much as I have. It's been an honor to talk about such sensitive issues while still portraying a story about love and friendship at the same time. I think this epilogue manages to capture all of the things that this story has been about. As always, I thank you for your time and your feedback. May we meet again.


End file.
